


Words Don't Come Easy

by Esperata



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Dadwald, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Dyslexia, Dyslexic Oswald Cobblepot, First Kiss, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Library AU, Library Assistant Ed, M/M, Martin learns ASL, Mayor Oswald Cobblepot, Minor Character Death, Murder, Obliviousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24823846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esperata/pseuds/Esperata
Summary: It was safe to say that visiting the library was not something Oswald had ever expected he’d be doing. Yet he also hadn’t expected to adopt a ten year old boy so he’d had to adapt his expectations.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot & Martin, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 306
Kudos: 212





	1. Chapter 1

It was safe to say that visiting the library was not something Oswald had ever expected he’d be doing. Not in a personal capacity anyway. He’d already done the official Mayoral visit, making some speech about the vital service it offered, and made sure to vacate the area well before any awkward questions could be raised about his own reading habits.

Yet he also hadn’t expected to adopt a ten year old boy so he’d had to adapt his expectations.

Martín was an enthusiastic reader and, although he’d gamely tackled several of the classics in the Van Dahl library, the choices were limited. Also, there was nothing there which truly energised him. He read them because he wanted to read _something_ , and it was better than nothing, but he longed for more modern genres. So Oswald had bit the metaphorical bullet and ventured a journey to the city’s library.

He began to regret it the moment they stepped through the doors.

Due to his busy work schedule the first free day he’d had was Saturday, and then only in the afternoon. The place was full of people who obviously likewise were utilising what free time they had. Oswald briskly decided in future he’d rearrange his schedule to time his visit better. It very briefly occurred to him that he could send someone else with Martín but he dismissed that idea. This was an important part of their bonding and he wasn’t going to be put off by a few plebs underfoot.

He’d have liked to have stormed forward, wearing his reputation like a shield to get them to their destination, but he was hampered by a confusion over where exactly the children’s section was. Martín was busy staring round in excitement at everything and Oswald used the interval to try and decipher for himself where to go. Asides from remembering it was located in one corner of the place he couldn’t swear exactly which one. So he began the laborious business of deciphering the signs, cursing internally that they didn’t have any pictorial representation to give him a hint.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t read. He _could_. It was simply that he was a bit slower at it, having to pin down each letter first and then interpret the whole word. The first sign he tried turned out to be especially irritating. He’d picked it because it comprised of a few short words rather than the longer words on signs elsewhere yet all he was left with for his efforts was ‘listen to a book’. What was _that_ supposed to mean?

He was still frowning over that when he noticed someone watching him. That in itself wasn’t too unusual – he was a public figure after all – but this person seemed a little less awed and a touch more focused than he’d have expected. The idea crossed his mind that this might be someone more interested due to his _other_ career, and he instinctively clutched Martín’s hand tighter. Then he reconsidered. They didn’t have the look of someone who survived in Gotham’s underworld. And now he was taking them in properly he saw they had a name badge.

His piercing gaze had obviously alerted the man to the fact that his own observation was no longer unnoticed and he smiled bashfully before stepping closer.

“Can I help you?” Oswald snapped somewhat irritably.

He wasn’t expecting his short temper to draw a laugh but either his remark was amusing or they simply didn’t realise he was annoyed.

“I should be asking you that,” they countered. “I work here. Sorry for staring but obviously I recognised you from the papers and, well, you looked slightly lost. Can I help?”

Oswald was trying to decide if ‘from the papers’ meant ‘as mayor’ or ‘as Penguin’ until Martín distracted his attention by releasing his hand. He glanced down swiftly to make sure the boy wasn’t going anywhere and saw him raising his pad for their companion to see.

The man had to bend slightly and Oswald was struck by just how tall he was. Practically all leg. He shifted his eyes aside to check what Martín was showing him. As he expected it was the picture he’d drawn earlier of a book. Glancing back to the man who was now straightening up again Oswald wondered how he would react to the unusual communication. If he made some joke about coming to the right place…

“You want the children’s section right?” He watched Martín as he spoke and Oswald kept quiet, letting his boy direct the conversation. As he received a nod in response the man smiled widely and gestured briskly before turning. “This way then.”

Oswald was reminded again of those long legs as he set off but almost immediately the man adjusted his pace, glancing back over his shoulder and seemingly assessing both his companion’s lesser height and the factor of Oswald using a cane. The speed turned out to be well judged and the trio moved easily through to the appropriate area. Oswald imagined their helper would leave once they were here but he was surprised.

The man turned and looked again to Martín.

“What type of books are you looking for?”

A new page was promptly turned to and Oswald knew precisely what word would be scrawled in answer to that question; adventure.

“Okay. Any particular sort? Spies? Pirates? Fantasy?”

Martín just nodded enthusiastically in response which prompted what sounded like a genuine laugh.

“I think it might be best if I show you how to discover your own books. This way.”

Oswald found himself following as the other two went across to a small desk with a PC and the assistant started showing Martín how to put in his genre settings and then follow the links to get even more suggestions from the original list. He waited there while the pair then headed over to the shelves so Martín could familiarise himself with how to follow the system.

Somewhat to Oswald’s surprise, when the man left Martín to start choosing his books, he came back over to him, the same pleasant smile on his face.

“And is there anything I can help _you_ with Mister Mayor?”

The acknowledgement of his legitimate title brought a smile to Oswald’s face. He was about to decline when the thought occurred to him that he didn’t know what to do precisely when Martín had got his books. He knew they were allowed to take them for free but he assumed there was more to it than simply walking out with them.

“Yes. What’s the procedure for taking the books? Do we need to show them to anyone?”

“I’m assuming neither of you have a library account yet?”

The mention of the word ‘account’ drew a displeased frown onto Oswald’s face. In his experience such things were at best a limitation and at worst a financial drain. As if reading his mind he was quickly reassured.

“It’s very easy to join. We just need a name and contact address, in case we have to chase up the books. There’s no fee and we don’t take credit details or anything.”

Steeling himself, Oswald nodded. It wasn’t really a surprise and he could hardly circumnavigate the system without damaging his reputation as Mayor. Especially not if Martín wanted to come back. Speaking of which, he glanced over to where the boy already had his nose in a book.

“Martín?” he called, waiting until he actually looked up before continuing. “Stay here while I sign us up for accounts.”

He got a brisk nod in answer before the curly head dipped down again. Oswald then looked expectantly to his library guide. Who seemed to be puzzled if his expression was anything to go by. He swiftly regained his smile though as he realised Oswald was waiting on him and turned to lead him away to the staff desk.

Taking a seat he politely focused on activating the screen and grabbing a pen and two forms while the Mayor made himself comfortable opposite.

“Okie dokie. These are the forms you need to fill in. This one is for… Martín, did you say?” He glanced anxiously over and Oswald nodded, gratified that he’d got the pronunciation correct. “And this one is for you,” he concluded.

The presentation of two forms made Oswald frown again and he stared apprehensively at them both. They looked superficially similar but there were slight variations so that he knew he’d have to be careful. Drawing the one suggested for Martín towards him he picked up the pen and focused himself. It was difficult however as he was aware of the other man watching. With a faux pleasant expression therefore he looked up at him.

“Look friend-”

“Edward,” he was interrupted. “Edward Nygma.”

Oswald tilted his head in acknowledgement, glancing briefly to the badge which presumably said as much.

“If you could not stare at me while I do this I would be much more comfortable.”

“Oh! Right. Of course. Sorry.”

He promptly turned away, which was slightly better if still weird. Oswald sighed and refocused on filling in the required fields; first name, surname, gender, address, telephone number, date of birth, disabilities. Eventually he got to the bottom of the first page and irritably turned to the second.

“That page is optional. If you want to skip it.”

Although Edward wasn’t looking his way he was obviously peripherally aware of the progress Oswald was making. He could see his fingers tapping out a silent tune on the edge of his desk. With great deliberation Oswald turned over that page and looked to see what the last page held. To his annoyance it was two paragraphs of text with a box to tick and a space for a signature. His instinct was to just sign it but then the librarian would know that he hadn’t bothered to read it. How would that look? A mayor who didn’t bother reading forms before signing them. Gritting his teeth therefore he grasped the form and fixed his eyes on it.

To his immense surprise Edward suddenly began to speak again.

“Declaration: I agree to be responsible for items borrowed on this card. I shall make sure items are returned on time, pay any charges as they arise, and observe the rules and byelaws of the library. Data Protection Act: Information given on this form will be processed to provide and monitor library services. Details of items borrowed by members aged under 12 years may be given to parents or carers on request. No other information will be disclosed to any individual organisation.” He cast an embarrassed gaze sideways to Oswald. “Sorry. I kinda memorised it and suppose I wanted to show off?”

Oswald appreciated the subtle assistance and smiled back before swiftly ticking and signing the relevant sections. He then turned his glance to his own form.

“If you just want to tick and sign the back of that one too – and fill in your date of birth – I can copy over the other details. Assuming you live at the same place?”

“Yes.” It was a reply but it was also an expression of relief and Oswald eagerly complied with the suggestion.

Handing them over he watched in slight aggravation as Ed easily filled in the rest before starting to input the details onto his PC. As he did so he began to explain about the library membership.

“You can each borrow up to 12 items at a time. There’s no charge for books unless they’re late. Adults are charged 21 cents per day, kids are 7 cents. The charge stops when it reaches $7.56 for adults, $2.52 for kids.”

“An appreciable difference.”

“Yeah. Make sure you take Martín’s books on his account. Though he won’t be able to borrow adult materials. The videos for example. There are some for kids programmes, rented at $1.25 for a week, but the films are all $3.”

“And how long do we get the books for?”

“Three weeks. You can extend them if you need to. Just ring up, or stop by with the card.”

“I’m sure my PA can be in charge of that.”

“Oh no.” Edward stopped what he was doing to turn and focus on him. “The cards are non-transferrable. We can’t do anything with someone’s account without them present or a legal document to authorise it.”

Oswald paused and mentally adjusted. It was clearly an important point to this man so he wouldn’t argue but privately he reflected he could probably still get Tarquin to ring up and renew the books if necessary.

“I can do things on Martín’s behalf though?” he queried.

“Oh yes.” Edward settled back looking at his screen. “Until he turns twelve you’ll have unrestricted access to his account. Then we’ll exercise some privacy for him so he can borrow materials he might be embarrassed to show a parent. You’ll still be charged if they’re late though.”

He smirked sideways at that and Oswald couldn’t help but roll his eyes in amusement.

“Lovely.”

“Right.” Nygma hit the final key and swivelled again to face him. “So is there anything you want me to help you find? We have a very good collection of quick reads available.”

“Quick reads?”

“Condensed novels,” he explained. “Short and with easier to digest language.”

A hot flush rushed over Oswald’s face and he found himself reaching for his cane instinctively.

“I don’t know what ideas you’ve got about my reading Mister Nygma but I assure you I don’t need-”

“Oh no!” Edward waved his hands apologetically as he interrupted. “No. I didn’t mean to suggest anything negative. Only that I’m sure you’re a very busy man and probably wouldn’t have time for full length books. I read the quick reads myself during my lunch breaks. They’re good.”

There was a pregnant pause as Oswald restrained himself. The explanation made sense. Obviously as Mayor he wouldn’t have time for large novels. And even if the man had been insinuating his reading ability was lacking, it would not look good to assault a library worker. The situation was abruptly dissipated by the appearance of Martín at his elbow carrying a pile of books and grinning proudly.

“Martín! I thought I told you to wait for me?”

The smile fell and Oswald nearly cursed himself for letting his frustration show to his child. Luckily Edward interceded.

“It’s good timing actually. I can issue the books here now I’ve done the account.”

He stood up and moved along to a higher desk, patting the edge nearest Martín.

“Put them up here.”

Martín then watched in rapt fascination as each one was diligently stamped and slid over the scanner, making a very satisfactory beeping noise. When the last one was added to the pile and shifted so Martín could reach them again, Oswald finally forced himself to stand.

“Thank you Mister Nygma,” he said politely. Arms full of books Martín could only grin at him. “No doubt when he’s got through these… in a day or two… we’ll be back for more.”

“I’ll look forward to seeing you again. And if you change your mind about those books, I have a few personal favourites I could recommend.”

Oswald found himself hesitating before he offered a cautious smile and nodded in understanding. He then accompanied his boy back to their waiting car where Martín immediately lost himself in one of the books. Ruffling his hair fondly, Oswald suddenly realised the hair was remarkably similar to the man’s they’d met and he wondered if he should read anything into that.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a week and two days since their last visit to the library. The extra days had been at Oswald’s insistence so they wouldn’t be visiting on a Saturday again and he had deliberately curtailed his Monday appointments so they could go after Martín had finished his daily studies. Technically they could have gone before the weekend since Martín had devoured the books at a phenomenal rate but that too had been one of Oswald’s stipulations. No more than one visit per week.

This time, in addition to his reading material, Martín had wanted to get some books for his school work. He had no trouble recognising that the non-fiction books were organised by a numerical system but figuring out what subjects went where was harder. Oswald knew he had no hope of working it out and, when Martín couldn’t seem to figure out how to locate the books from the PC, he approached the desk to ask. After being rudely ignored for several seconds he finally tapped his cane for emphasis and received an unimpressed look.

“My son requires books upon social history.”

“What period?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“What period in history,” they elaborated. “The revolution? The civil war? The great depression?”

“He wants something that covers the change in social values over time.”

“He’ll have to get something from each period then. The books should have a chapter on societies of the time. Look under 950 or thereabouts.”

Oswald grit his teeth at the dismissive tone and forced a smile.

“Is Mister Nygma here today? He was _most_ helpful last week.”

“Ed? No. He doesn’t work Mondays.”

Reaching the limit of his admittedly limited patience, Oswald stormed back to where Martín had been choosing more fiction books.

“We’re coming back tomorrow,” he declared.

Martín looked up, naturally confused about the sudden change in expectations. He didn’t argue however and excitedly gathered up his new choices to go get them checked out.

The next morning Oswald instructed his PA to defer his appointments so he could take Martín early to the library. This time they were seemingly in luck as the familiar face of Edward noticed them almost as soon as they entered and smiled.

“I thought I’d missed you this week,” he commented as the pair came in range. “Isabella said the Mayor visited yesterday.”

“I did and you may take it from me Isabelle is decidedly less competent than yourself.”

He chuckled awkwardly at that.

“She’s competent,” he countered before adding, “Just not exactly a fan.”

“I would say that makes her incompetent if she cannot present a professional attitude.”

“Touché. So, what was it you needed help with?”

“Martín is doing a project charting the societal changes over Gotham’s history.”

Ed turned his gaze onto the boy in question seemingly measuring him up and down.

“You’re a good reader right? I’m guessing ahead of other kids your age?”

Martín positively beamed and nodded. Ed then switched his attention onto Oswald.

“How do you feel about taking some of the adult books for him? He may need help with passages or you might want to censor some parts.”

“Martín is very mature for his age. I’m sure it will be fine.”

“Right. Well, let’s start by looking in the 300s.”

He turned and set off, Martín moving to trot alongside with Oswald following at a more leisurely pace. It warmed him to see his boy being treated respectfully for once. Too many people either dismissed him as a child or worse assumed he was dumb in both senses of the word. Ed spoke to him with the instinctive expectation that Martín would keep up, although on the occasion where Martín frowned, he did his best to explain in different language. Plus he seemed genuinely interested in finding out about the project, waiting patiently while Martín wrote or drew answers.

After not long at all they had seemingly chosen some titles that were helpful and their attention returned to Oswald. This time Ed moved to walk alongside him as they returned to the lending desk.

“Is there a reason Martín hasn’t learnt signing? Because we have resources to help with that if it would help.”

“It’s not something we’ve really discussed,” he prevaricated, uncomfortably aware of his own anxieties about tackling a secondary language. Thankfully Ed didn’t press.

“Well. Let me know if it’s ever something you’re interested in. I learnt a little a while ago but haven’t kept it up. I’m kind of rusty now but I’m sure I could pick it up again.”

“Are you offering to teach him?” Oswald asked, only half joking.

“Oh! No. I mean. That wouldn’t be very appropriate of me. I just meant he could use it here if he did learn.”

They had by now got back to the desk and Martín was eagerly piling his books up. As Ed automatically began processing them he continued the conversation.

“Did you think any more about those quick reads?”

“No.” Oswald regretted his harsh tone immediately and tried to soften it. “I’m so busy all the time. I really don’t know when I’d fit in reading.”

“Car journeys? Before bed? In the bath?”

“Do people really do that?” Oswald diverted the conversation with the ease of ages.

“Oh yes.” Ed grinned. “We get more than our fair share of books returned having had a dunking.”

“How disrespectful.”

Edward just shrugged.

“Accidents happen. I don’t mind so much when they own up to it. It’s when they try to sneak them back and deny all knowledge that gets my goat. Do they seriously think I’ll believe the book was issued like that? Or that it got that way falling in a puddle? Or that they never noticed it was wet!” He seemed to realise his ire was showing and nervously pushed his glasses up. “Sorry. Library rant.”

“That’s okay.” Oswald found himself somewhat endeared by the flair of temper. “I suppose every job has its irritants. Speaking of which, I must get back to mine.” He glanced back down to Martín. “Ready to go?”

There was a clear disappointed look that the visit was so brief although he nodded his acceptance.

“I’ll make sure we have more time next week,” Oswald promised him before returning his gaze to Ed. “Thank you again for your help.”

“You’re very welcome. If you need anything next week don’t hesitate to ask.”

Merely inclining his head in acknowledgement Oswald set off for the door.

It didn’t take long to drop Martín back home ready to start his tutoring and then Oswald was busy being hustled from appointment to appointment. Still, in between meetings he found his thoughts turning again to the library. This week’s visit had undeniably been rushed since he’d lost time on both the Monday and the Tuesday. If he set aside only Tuesday morning next week however, and perhaps worked an hour later on the Monday, then Martín could have more time to spend there.

Oswald was aware that now the boy wasn’t going to a proper school then he needed other avenues of socialisation. The library seemed a good place to start that. Already he had proved confident in communicating with a stranger which gave Oswald hope that being home schooled would not stunt his people skills. He was vaguely aware they ran other events which it might be worth keeping an eye out for although depending on the level of interaction involved he would have to assess for suitability first.

The concept of Martín learning to sign resurfaced and he bit his lip as he considered it. Oswald was fairly certain it would be beyond him but Martín was a young and clever boy. He would probably pick it up with ease and that might open up a world of communication for him. He was sure he’d understand why Oswald might not have the time or ability to learn with him.

Still, Oswald drummed his fingers irritably on the seat next to him, frustrated with his own inability in visual language. It made no sense and frustrated him no end that he could be so verbally gifted in his speech but struggle to piece together a few sentences. It was fortunate he had a good memory or he’d never manage to keep up with his workload. Well, that and an intimidating reputation that meant people were generally happy to recite documents upon request or fill in blanks he may have missed. Speaking of which, he cast a glance sideways to his companion.

“Remind me what the gist of this next meeting was about?”

Tarquin looked surprised as ever at being addressed which grated on Oswald’s nerves. The man was his Chief of Staff. It should not be a surprise that he spoke to him.

“Detective Gordon wants to discuss the proposed building of a new orphanage. It seems he has concerns.”

“What possible objection could Gordon have to an orphanage being built?” Oswald couldn’t help but recall the less than desirable residence he’d discovered Martín in and frowned. “They deserve better facilities.”

“The detective didn’t say. Or rather, he implied he thought you would be raising objections and therefore wished to talk to you.”

“What?!” He spun with outrage to his hapless subordinate. “Why should he think… how could he _dare_ to think I’d have objections?! After adopting Martín from that hellhole. Does he think I care nothing for the children of this city?”

“I really couldn’t say.” Tarquin was used to these flare ups but Oswald suspected the man was simply too stupid to realise the very real danger he might find himself in one day through his apathy. “I supposed there was something in the details he found odd. Did you see anything when you read them through?”

That caused Oswald to turn his head away abruptly. He’d struggled through the proposal as best he could. Or the summary at any rate. Then he’d gotten a headache and given up on it.

“That’s what I pay you for,” he reminded him. “I don’t have time to comb through every article submitted to me.”

“I didn’t notice anything odd. But then my knowledge of the historical significance of some areas is lacking. Perhaps it’s an old burial ground or something?”

Oswald scoffed at that suggestion but didn’t press further. It was true that Tarquin’s intelligence was limited in several areas. Gordon may well have noticed something his lackey had missed. Which Oswald would have spotted as well if his reading was less problematic. He grit his teeth. _Or_ , Gordon simply couldn’t believe he had a genuine love for Gotham and a desire to see it prosper. In which case he was about to receive a stern talking to about the seriousness with which Oswald approached his role.

Storming back into City Hall therefore Oswald headed with determination to the expected confrontation. It was about time he put Jim back in his place. The friendship he’d tried to cultivate with him in previous years, and which the man had consistently rebuked, did not entitle him to his time now. So as he stalked through his outer office and saw the detective waiting he merely gestured briskly as he passed.

“I’m busy Jim. So if you could keep this brief,” he instructed while situating himself in his padded chair behind his formidable desk.

As if in compliance, Jim didn’t take the expected seat but there remained an air of defiance still in his choice to stand and stare down at Oswald.

“Fine by me. I was just here to warn you that you’re playing a dangerous game, Oswald.”

The unexpected tone caused Oswald to glance back towards his assistant’s office as he wondered whether the man had confused the meeting’s agenda.

“I thought you were here about the new orphanage?”

“I am. I don’t know why you’re letting the Falcones get a foothold back in this city-”

“Wait!” Oswald leant forward suddenly. “The Falcones? What does that has-been family have to do with anything?”

For a long moment Jim stared at him, clearly caught off guard himself by Oswald’s apparent ignorance.

“They’re buying the site. Well the daughter is. Sofia Falcone. Through a subsidiary company. Which means it might be entirely innocent but…”

He didn’t need to say any more and Oswald nodded even as he raised a solitary hand in acknowledgement.

“Say no more. I’ll be investigating this further. I have no intention of encouraging any competition for control of Gotham.”

His declaration gave Jim pause as he seemingly tried to decide how he felt about that.

“Glad to hear it,” he finally agreed, turning to head out again. “In that case I’ll leave you to it.”

Oswald allowed a minute to pass so that the detective might be out of earshot before yelling, “Tarquin!”

His slow arrival suggested he hadn’t run from his desk which put Oswald in a worse mood.

“Yes Mister Mayor?”

“Why didn’t you tell me it was Sofia Falcone arranging construction of the new orphanage?”

He kept his voice as reasonable as he could make it but his eyes were practically burning with his suppressed irritation. Not that Tarquin seemed to notice if his unhurried blink was any indication.

“That information was in the dossier. I assumed you’d read it.”

“I don’t have time to read every last detail! I’ve told you before to give me a concise summary! Why didn’t you think it relevant to include that snippet?”

In his growing anger he’d stood and was now leaning on his desk to glare at his incompetent helper.

“I didn’t think the identity of the buyer was of that much importance,” he opined.

“GET OUT!”

Thankfully Tarquin obeyed that instruction much quicker. If he hadn’t Oswald’s temper might have snapped. He was surrounded by fools. How could anyone who lived in Gotham not recognise the import in the name of Falcone? It was true Tarquin wasn’t blessed with an imagination – in some ways it was one of his best qualities – but surely even he should realise it bore mentioning at least?

Perhaps he had deliberately concealed it? Maybe he was working for the Falcone family, aiding their gradual return, sneaking in such tendrils to regain a hold on the city. The thought wormed its way into Oswald’s brain and he suddenly found himself anxiously wondering what else he might have missed. Was this merely the tipping point in a swath of actions that even the GCPD were aware of? If Jim Gordon himself was getting concerned perhaps it was.

Oswald sank back into his chair and gnawed at his lower lip. He couldn’t trust anyone to act as go-between on these documents any more. He’d have to spend longer poring through them for such underhanded tactics. And for better efficiency he really needed to try and improve his reading skills.

His thoughts sprang back to Mister Nygma’s suggestion of easier novels that he might try and he sighed in resignation as he conceded it might in fact be time to ask for some help.


	3. Chapter 3

“Wow, you look tired.”

The blunt statement caused Oswald to stop short. It wasn’t just that no-one spoke to him like that – both because he was the Mayor and also because of his underworld reputation – but also the fact that customer assistants generally did not make such personal remarks. He was not alone in his stunned reaction as Edward promptly realised what he’d said and went wide eyed in alarm.

“Oh dear. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

Oswald waved the concern away and continued to the tempting chair by the desk. Honestly, he really didn’t have the energy to get that annoyed over an observation that was patently true. If it hadn’t been for Martín he might have skipped this visit altogether. But since he was bringing the boy anyway he resolved to address the issue that had been the cause of his tiredness.

“No. You’re right. I _am_ tired. And that’s partly why I’m here.”

“You want books on setting up healthy sleep routines?”

“No,” Oswald answered with slow patience, watching as Edward resettled his hands away from his keyboard. “I was thinking about what you suggested the other week. I’ll admit I’m… out of practise with reading. It takes me longer than I’d like, especially with so many important documents flooding my desk all the time.”

He hesitated and glanced across to check what reaction he was getting. Edward merely looked attentive however so he persevered.

“I’m tired because of the amount of work I have to sit up going through. I wondered whether those… light reads?... you suggested might help improve my reading speed.”

“They might,” Ed agreed with a smile. “Reading’s an area where practise really does help. Did you know kids often drop a whole reading level over the summer if they don’t keep up with the habit? Speaking of which, do you want to let Martín know we’ll be heading over to another area?”

It took Oswald a second to process the verbal barrage and he blinked in bemusement.

“Yes, I… yes.”

Standing himself up he walked back over to where Martín was seemingly showing another child how to use the search PC. Oswald smiled while he watched and waited until the other kid had run off before interrupting.

“Martín, I’m going to go choose some books myself. Don’t leave this area. I’ll come back to you. OK?”

The boy nodded and swiftly returned to what he was doing so Oswald sighed and left him in peace. He was glad Martín was capable of being independent but sometimes it would be nice to have a little concern over his whereabouts. Nevertheless he dutifully returned to where Edward was waiting to show him the suggested books.

As they walked, Ed took up the conversation again.

“Do you have any preferred genres? Or would you like to find similar titles to any favourite reads? Is there anything I should definitely be avoiding?”

Oswald struggled to think if he could even remember any book he’d read. At present the only genre he could remember was the romance stories his mother had enjoyed and he wasn’t sure that was really the type of thing he should be mentioning.

“To be honest, it’s a very long time since I read anything. And then it was required reading. I’m not sure I _have_ any preferences. Except that it’s not dull.”

A purse of the lips told him Ed had some feelings on the subject, which was proved right as the man seemingly couldn’t keep from verbalising them.

“School required reading is responsible for turning so many people off reading. It’s always lists of supposedly formative tales that in reality bear little relevance to most kids’ lives. Of course people are going to be put off if the only lesson they’re being taught is that their own experiences are not worthy of recognition.”

He almost flinched as he finished and cast a nervous glance sideways.

“Sorry. Bit of a touchy subject.”

“That’s perfectly alright,” Oswald assured him. “Schools do seem set in their views about how learning should be taught. Its partly why I’ve opted to have Martín taught from home since most of them wouldn’t make allowances for his particular needs. I can’t really speak from much personal experience though since I had to drop out early. I had most of my education on the streets of Gotham.”

He hoped Ed wouldn’t ask too much about that. Although it was a matter of public record that his education had stopped sooner than most of his peers Oswald didn’t like it being flung at him like an insult. To his relief though, Edward was smiling.

“I guess that’s why you’re such a good Mayor.”

The unexpected compliment threw him and he found himself blushing. Luckily, Ed’s attention had returned to the shelves and he didn’t notice.

“Okie dokie. Now these aren’t really arranged in any strict order but generally similar reading levels are grouped together. See these colour bands on the spines? Although not all the publishers follow the same system we do try to keep them in relative order.” He paused and moved a book seemingly at random but presumably back into roughly the right place. “Some of them are printed on slightly coloured paper to help with dyslexia. Like this one. See?”

He pulled another book off the shelf and opened it to show Oswald, who dutifully looked at the yellow tinted page.

“It looks like its aged.”

“Yeah I know,” Ed agreed, “but the contrast is good for focusing the words. In fact the book was published this year. Do you think you might like it?”

“Have you read it?”

A wide grin met his question.

“Yes. It’s one of my favourites.”

“Well then,” Oswald extended his hand to take the book from him, carefully noting the title as he did so. “The Perfect Murder.” He smirked. “Something you’d like to share Mister Nygma?”

This time Edward flushed in embarrassment.

“I like crime books,” he acknowledged awkwardly before suddenly blurting, “I always wanted to work in forensics really.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I wanted to study it at college but…” he tailed off. Oswald politely didn’t pry but let him redirect the conversation. “I’ve read a lot of crime stories but I also read the non-fiction books on the topic. There was a good one called The Body Farm. Have you heard of it?” He shook his head to dismiss his own question even as Oswald shook his in answer. “It went into great detail about how they learnt things about human remains decaying from letting actual corpses rot out in farms where they can be observed. Isn’t that neat?”

Oswald couldn’t help his dumb stare and Edward seemingly recollected himself.

“Sorry. That’s weird isn’t it?”

“No. No, not weird. Just… I never knew that’s how they researched that.”

“I know. It’s fascinating right?”

Although he privately agreed, Oswald felt it safer to guide their talk back to more neutral grounds.

“So how did you end up working in the library?”

The bright smile faded into something more wistful.

“I needed money when I moved here. They were advertising. I applied and voilà. Though I do really like it actually. You never know what challenge is going to crop up next.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you found your way here.”

He turned slightly to indicate he wanted to leave this section. Edward hesitated briefly, eyes glancing to the shelves in obvious consideration of whether he shouldn’t have suggested more, before silently acquiescing to the decision to forego that for now. They followed the same path back to the desk before parting ways, Edward to his station and Oswald back to collect up Martín.

He’d no sooner sat in the childrens’ section than Martín came across to show off the books he’d chosen this week. Oswald politely followed the pointing finger to see what were apparently the most exciting parts from each choice; a particular phrase here, an image on another, the author in a few cases. Then Martín gestured pointedly to Oswald’s own book.

“It’s a crime story,” he dutifully reported. “Mister Nygma recommended it for me.”

The response obviously caught his interest and he ferreted through his heap of books to locate one he thought was relevant to show Oswald. Although Oswald recognised it as a Famous Five story from the cover it was waved too hurriedly for him to interpret the title. Still, he gathered enough from the display.

“Similar to that, yes,” he agreed. “Although obviously I haven’t read it yet.”

Martín gathered up his books with the clear intention of going to get them checked out and Oswald obediently stood to accompany him. As they returned to the issue desk, Edward greeted them with a grin.

“Find what you want okay?” he asked as the boy deposited his books.

A brisk nod was his answer before Martín again grabbed the Famous Five book to show Edward.

“You like that series huh? You took one last week as well didn’t you?”

Again Martín nodded emphatically.

“He wants to read them all,” Oswald added.

“I could print you a list of the titles if you like?” Ed immediately offered.

For the answering grin he received he may as well have offered to buy the kid ice cream.

“That would be kind,” Oswald said before nudging Martín’s shoulder lightly. “Martín,” he prompted.

The boy immediately grabbed the pad from round his neck and flipped a few pages until he could hold up a sign for Ed saying _thank you_. Ed grinned himself and shifted to the computer where he could bring up the requested list.

“You’re very welcome. While I’m doing this, do you want to know how to say ‘thank you’ in sign language? It’s real easy.”

Martín’s nod was a little more hesitant this time and he glanced almost anxiously to Oswald, who gave him an encouraging smile in response.

“Ok. That’s printing now,” Ed confirmed before turning to face him. “So, to say ‘thank you’, what you do is-” he raised one flat hand so the tips of his fingers were by his chin and then gently angled the hand down and away. “See?” He repeated it. “Now you try.”

Cautiously Martín echoed the gesture, eyes anxiously watching Ed as if anticipating a rebuke. However Edward’s grin only increased.

“That’s it. You got it in one. Well done.”

He moved away towards the sound of the printer and Martín blinked up towards Oswald who ruffled his hair fondly.

“I could hire someone to teach you more gestures if you like,” he offered quietly. “Though I doubt I could keep up with you. You’re so quick.”

The discussion was curtailed as Ed returned and handed across the promised list.

“We’ll have a number of the books here,” he explained, “but if we don’t then we can order them in from another library branch. You just have to ask.”

Oswald looked over Martín’s shoulder at the list while Ed began stamping their books.

“What a lot,” he commented. “It might take even you a couple of weeks.”

“If you finish those,” Ed interjected, “then there’s another series for slightly older kids called The Secret Seven.”

He shifted Martín’s books aside and held out his hand for Oswald’s. The Mayor started as he recalled he had one as well this week and hastily tried to find his library card in his pocket. Ed chuckled slightly as he handed it over.

“Best not forget when its due back,” he suggested, eyes already shifting to issue it.

Moments later he was passing it back and his gaze swept over where Martín was already ensconced in the pages.

“It’s really nice to see a father taking such an encouraging interest in his child’s reading,” he commented.

Once again Oswald was caught off guard and floundered slightly.

“Surely it’s natural for any parent to want to encourage their child’s development?”

“You’d think so wouldn’t you?” Ed answered in a tone that implied very clearly he knew the truth of the situation. And really Oswald couldn’t argue with him. He himself had been lucky in that regard but he was far from unaware of the shocking state of so many familial relationships.

“Well then, its lucky the city has men like us ready to show the way then isn’t it?”

The smile returned to Edward’s face and Oswald felt a sense of achievement at the sight.

“Well said Mister Mayor.”

An inclination of the head accompanied his acknowledgment but it was the gleam in his eyes that caught Oswald’s attention. It was a look of admiration that still felt all too rare for all his achievements. He suddenly realised he was standing staring and abruptly brought himself back to task.

“Come on Martín. You still have lessons and I still have work. Good day Mister Nygma.”

“Good day Mister Mayor.” Ed’s eyes had not lost their teasing sparkle. “Good day Martín.”

To Oswald’s mortification the boy responded to the teasing tone by executing as formal a bow as possible with an armful of books. Thankfully it brought Ed out into a burst of laughter and Oswald took the opportunity to escape. Once back in the safety of the car though he couldn’t help but think about the interactions between Edward and Martín again.

It was good for the boy to meet people and learn to communicate but it was highlighting the expectation most people would have for him to know ASL. Edward was wonderfully accepting but Oswald knew that was not the norm. Still, he had very tactfully raised the issue that Oswald himself had been avoiding due to his own shortcomings, he knew. So he steeled himself to address the issue properly and now was as good a time as any.

“Martín?” He waited for the boy to lower his book. “How _do_ you feel about learning sign?”

He cast his glance sideways as casually as he could, not wanting to put pressure on him either way. There was a decided hesitance as Martín picked up his pad and pencil to reply.

“Would you learn it with me?”

Oswald sucked in a breath and tried to think of the best answer to that. He wanted to say ‘yes’ of course but given he was still dealing with overcoming the hurdles of static language he knew it would be a step too far too soon. Yet he didn’t want to refuse, or lie and brush Martín off with complaints about being busy, true though they often were.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able,” he said slowly. “It’s harder to learn new things when you’re older and though I’d try, I’ll struggle more than you. You’ll have to learn first and teach me what you can.”

He offered what he hoped was an encouraging smile. Martín looked a little unnerved at the prospect and Oswald wondered, not for the first time, about his life surrounding his muteness. He’d undoubtedly been bullied for it and it was by no means entirely clear why he was silent. Oswald didn’t like to push the issue. Not while they were still getting used to trusting each other in their lives.

“I can get you a personal tutor,” he offered. “And you can trial it for a while. At least to learn enough to surprise Edward with. How about that?”

The promise of pulling a surprise on the library assistant was enough to convince Martín for now and he nodded before returning his nose to his book. Oswald opted to enjoy the rest of the journey quietly watching his boy read.


	4. Chapter 4

Wanting to disembowel someone was a common enough feeling for Oswald but usually he had a more defined target instead of just whoever the hell had made such arbitrary decisions over the English language.

He would admit that perhaps he’d been overly optimist in the plan to improve his reading abilities but over the years it had become something of an accepted excuse for him. The school’s recommended reading had always been at least a hundred years out of date meaning every other sentence produced a word that never came up in everyday speech. His mother’s Hungarian roots, complicit with her own language difficulties, meant that Oswald had not had the benefit of being read books at home either. All of which meant he’d never really got into the habit of reading and he’d somehow assumed all his problems simply stemmed from this lack of practise.

Now though, some familiar problems were leaping back into his consciousness as he struggled to pin down unfamiliar words. It was a problem he generally didn’t worry over much about with his Mayoral documents since Tarquin’s vocabulary was helpfully simple and by now relatively familiar, even as it thereby obviously missed a lot of vital points. With these literature books however he inevitably found some word that he’d diligently piece together only to get something that didn’t sound familiar at all.

‘Sc-he-me’ had been a particularly irritating one and he’d resorted to asking Martín under the guise of a spot test. Although he couldn’t pronounce it for Oswald he had at least recognised it and translated it for him into ‘plan’. He assumed that was correct although he couldn’t figure out what kind of specialised plan it might relate to. Skimming something off the top was what he finally decided.

He’d taken to keeping a list of these anomalous words and randomly throwing one at Martín under the guise of keeping him on his toes. The only problem being he couldn’t really say if he answered right or not and very often was still left with the problem of how to pronounce the word. The occasional translation provided him a lightbulb moment but more than half his list remained unsolved.

With the threat of it only to continuing to grow with the next book he borrowed, he therefore decided to risk asking to see if Edward could suggest anything to help with this particular hurdle. However, he nevertheless held back as they approached the enquiry desk so Martín could initiate the conversation. A tutor had visited during the week, mostly to discuss the arrangement for teaching ASL and to spend some time meeting Martín but the boy had learnt a few simple signs which he was eager to try out.

As the customer in front of them moved away, Ed’s gaze looked up to them and he smiled brightly.

“Mister Mayor. Martín. Nice to see you.”

Martín smiled wide and quickly raised his hand up as if to shield his eyes before dropping it forward in a brisk gesture. The reaction couldn’t have been better as Ed’s smile switched to delighted surprise and he echoed the motion. However he immediately followed that up with a sign involving both hands rolling together, ending with a finger pointing outwards. Behind Martín, Oswald could only imagine his confused expression but stepped forward regardless to intercede.

“Martín only met his tutor this week,” he explained. “He learnt ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’ but not… whatever that was.”

“Oh. Of course.” Ed dropped his eyes back to Martín. “I’m sorry. Guess I got a little carried away. It’s been a long while since I got to talk to someone like this.”

He waited while Martín wrote a reply.

“What was it you said?”

“This?” He repeated the motions somewhat slower, fingers of each hand curled and pressed together as he rolled his hands forward and down before releasing his right hand to flick his pointer out to aim at them. “It means, how are you?”

“How do I say ‘well’?”

“I’m not sure about ‘well’ but I know ‘good’.” He lifted one hand flat up to touch the tip of his chin and lay the other open in front of him. Then he dropped the upper hand down.

Martín frowned as he copied the motion awkwardly and Edward chuckled as he watched.

“You shouldn’t frown while you do it. Unless you mean it as a cautionary ‘good’. Try to smile.”

Oswald waited while Martín tried it again, receiving an encouraging nod this time, before interrupting.

“That was part of the reason we came,” he said. “You mentioned having ASL books here. I thought it might be as well to borrow some for Martín.

“Absolutely!” He stood with clear eagerness and set off for the shelves.

“Do you not need to check the location?” Oswald asked, genuinely curious.

Ed scoffed instinctively in response.

“Its actually really easy to find everything when you know the system. 400s are languages. English and signing come early in the sequence with others following in much the same sort of branching diversity as you’d expect.”

They’d arrived at the right place as he spoke and he pulled a few books out for them.

“These will help you practise but you’ll still need your tutor to demonstrate them first so don’t try reading ahead too far. It won’t do you any good if you have to unlearn bad habits.”

Martín nodded seriously before turning and looking expectantly to Oswald.

“Yes, yes,” he agreed. “You can go choose your own books now.” As the boy set off, he found himself attempting to shout after him without raising his voice. “Don’t run!”

With an apologetic wince he glanced to Ed beside him.

“Sorry about that.”

“No problem. Libraries really aren’t the temples to silence they were and far better he doesn’t crash into anyone.”

As they made their way back to Ed’s desk, Oswald licked his lips and forced himself to broach his own question.

“I wonder if you have anything here that might help me with pronunciation?”

“Pronunciation? Your diction has always sounded perfect to me.”

Oswald couldn’t help but flush in pleasure at that remark. He took a great pride in his ability to phrase himself elegantly and it was always nice to have that self-belief validated. He reminded himself that wasn’t the important point right now however and pressed on.

“Yes, well, I suppose what I really mean is with written words I don’t recognise.”

“Oh. You want a dictionary?”

The answer threw Oswald as being something he hadn’t considered. Of course a dictionary would translate these words for him. The mansion’s library probably had such a thing somewhere. Yet he didn’t see the correlation with pronunciation.

“Would that tell me how to speak a word?”

“Usually.” Ed nodded. “Better dictionaries will have a phonetic spelling alongside the definition.”

Despite himself Oswald found his frustration returning.

“I can barely follow ordinary spellings. Am I expected to learn a secondary one too? Who the hell came up with this ridiculous double system? Why not just spell words how they sound?”

“Most people accredit Samuel Johnson with standardising the spelling in the English language.” Ed rested his head on his hands as he watched the mayor huff in front of him. “Was there any particular word bothering you?”

Oswald fumbled in his pocket for the little notebook he’d taken to keeping with him and opened it for Ed to see.

“Lots. But this one is especially irritating. Martín says it means a plan.”

“Scheme,” Ed read out and Oswald almost immediately snatched the book back to stare at the page.

“Scheme? _That’s_ how it’s spelt? Who thought that was a good idea?”

“A lot of dyslexic people struggle with processing syllables and sounds. And I agree, English doesn’t lend itself to easy translation in that regard. Have you considered audio books?”

Briefly, Oswald wasn’t sure which part of that to focus on first and as usual he let his emotions get the better of him.

“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned dyslexia,” he pointed out. “I haven’t said I have any kind of _problem_ like that. I’m just a late bloomer.”

For a long few seconds Ed did nothing but stare at him contemplatively. Then he tilted his head thoughtfully.

“You make it sound like I insulted you but its hardly a character failing. In fact, I’d say it was a show of great strength of character if you’ve risen to your current position despite what some might consider a handicap.”

Oswald couldn’t help but flinch away from that intense look and flustered somewhat in his reply.

“Regardless. I’ve never been diagnosed with dyslexia so it really isn’t a consideration.”

When he risked looking back he found Ed smiling again.

“Let me ask you something. Does someone only have a condition when they reach the point of diagnosis? If that’s true, why go to a doctor at all? They’ll only give you a diagnosis and suddenly your life will be completely different!”

“Now you’re just being facetious.”

“No I’m not. A lot of people can’t get all the tests and assessments they need to be medically diagnosed. It doesn’t change the fact they have an issue to be examined.”

Something in his tone brought Oswald’s gaze swinging back to consider him more carefully. To the trained eye it was clear he was hiding something but then Ed diverted the conversation back again.

“But you didn’t answer my question, have you considered audio books?”

There was a breath where Oswald was tempted to press Ed on what his own ‘issue’ might be before admonishing himself that it would be highly inappropriate. The man was at work for one. And he was a customer, not an actual friend, even if Ed was very good at appearing friendly. Ultimately it was none of his business nor any of his concern.

Mentally shaking that idea away therefore he returned his own focus to the question at hand.

“How will audio books help? Unless they spell out the words-”

He was interrupted by Ed rising again and setting them off in the direction of the sign reading ‘Listen to a book’.

“Not exactly,” he answered. “But several of them come with books so that you can read along with the audio, thereby linking together the words with the sounds. You might want to give one a go.”

Oswald struggled to follow at an adequate pace, his leg feeling stiffer today than usual. In an effort to distract from that he tried to engage more in the conversation.

“I suppose one could just as easily find a paper copy as well and listen along that way.”

“Yes,” Ed conceded, eyes dipping almost too fast to notice to Oswald’s ankle before slowing his stride. “But several audio books might be abridged so you could find yourself caught out. Best to get a set.”

They reached the section and Oswald noted it looked much bigger than the quick read shelves. Although admittedly they were slim tomes and these were chunky boxes. Glancing round himself he wondered where one would even start. Thankfully Ed was more than eager again to make suggestions.

“You want to focus on these sets with the picture of an open book on the spine. They all have a read along book inside.”

“And how do I find something interesting?”

Oswald pulled a random one off the shelf and found a provocative image of a half-naked man clutching a woman to his chest, her dress slipping from one shoulder. He blushed scarlet and shoved it back.

“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying romantic literature.” Ed said mildly.

“Whatever that was, it didn’t look like _romance_ ,” Oswald answered primly.

It drew a laugh out of Ed even as he continued browsing the stock.

“Well, it’s still a very popular genre. A lot of people enjoy that kind of escapism.”

“Well,” Oswald parroted, “ _I’m_ not much interested in hearing about scantily clad young women flinging themselves at people.”

“Oh.” Ed’s gaze was far too intuitive Oswald thought as he looked at him and he tried to appear engrossed in the titles beside him. “There’s really not much available catering to men wanting scantily clad men draping themselves over them. It’s an area where the publishers are really behind to be honest.”

Something in his tone interrupted the denial Oswald already had on the tip of his tongue and he glanced again to Edward. The man looked completely unperturbed however, scanning his eye along the row of options. Oswald decided to let the assumption go if Ed truly wasn’t phased. After all, it wasn’t incorrect. With perfect timing Ed then drew a book off the shelf and presented it with a smile.

“This however might fit the bill. It’s a classic.”

Oswald accepted the offering and stared hard at the title. Names were always difficult for him and generally he ignored authors. Yet he found himself struggling with even this short word.

“It’s called ‘Maurice’,” Ed answered his unasked question. “It’s kind of a favourite of mine.”

“A crime story?”

“No…” Ed seemed hesitant to say anything else. “Just give it a try.”

“Do you listen to these audio stories much?” Oswald tucked the book under his arm and refocused on Ed.

“Not really. I mean I do sometimes when I’m working on a puzzle or something. Because I hate not utilising all my time properly. But often I make recordings myself when I’m studying. I learn better that way I think.”

Oswald was about to make a remark about that when a pair of arms latched suddenly about his waist and he looked down in surprise to see Martín hugging him.

“Martín? Is everything alright?”

His hand instinctively pet the boy’s hair even as Martín tilted his face to look up at him. Although he nodded his head, there were clear signs of incipient tears at the corner of his eyes.

“Something’s the matter,” Oswald fretted, stroking his hand anxiously through the soft curls. “Did someone say something to you?”

Again he received a shake of the head in answer. Before he could probe further though, Edward interceded.

“I think perhaps Martín was just anxious to have lost sight of you.”

Having turned his head when Edward spoke, Oswald now looked back to his child.

“Is that it? Did you think I’d gone?”

This time his only answer was a tighter grip and the burying of his face into his side but it was answer enough. Wrapping his own arms round him he squeezed gently.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I should have said where I was going. But you know I’d never leave you right? It’s you and me, thick as thieves, forever.” He extricated one hand and held it towards Martín. “Pinkie swear.”

Cautiously Martín angled his face to look, immediately noting the extended finger. With a shimmy he removed himself so he could latch his own finger with Oswald’s and shake on it.

“Good. Now. I think we’ve dallied long enough. Run fetch your books.”

Grinning once more, he hurried off again and Oswald returned his attention to Ed. Who was looking attractively soft.

“You’re very good with him. Far better than most parents I know.”

“Most parents don’t deserve children,” Oswald huffed, leaning on his cane as he swivelled for the return journey to the desk. As Edward merely hummed in response, Oswald felt compelled to explain himself further, though he couldn’t have said why. “I’m in a fortunate position of having plenty to offer. A large home, money to support him-”

“And a lot of love,” Ed chimed in. “I can’t be bought but I can be stolen with a glance. I’m worthless to one but priceless to two. What am I?”

The riddle caught Oswald off guard and he found himself staring even while Ed set about issuing his item and Martín’s books once the boy rejoined them. That done, he returned his gaze to Oswald and smiled again.

“I’ll look forward to seeing you next week.”

All Oswald could do was nod dumbly in response before being led away by Martín.


	5. Chapter 5

It was Friday evening and Oswald was sitting waiting anxiously in the backseat of his chauffeur driven car wondering just why he’d thought this was a good idea. His gaze lingered on the side door for the library building, where he knew the staff should be leaving soon, and he reminded himself that he had a perfectly valid reason for being here.

The idea had occurred to him after their last visit when he’d turned the borrowed audio book around in his hands contemplatively reflecting on his talk with Ed. All at once the solution to his problem seemed to be staring him in the face. Why not get Tarquin to narrate the documents so he could listen to them? Surely he could read them aloud just as quickly as he could read them silently and Oswald could simply play them back.

When he got to the office and raised that proposal however, Tarquin seemed bemused by the very idea. In a tone that suggested quite clearly he was stating what he felt was obvious, Tarquin explained reading aloud would slow him down to a significant degree. He would not get half so much work done. Not to mention the complications of setting up recording equipment and the like. Oswald briskly waved the whole concept away, laughing falsely and declaring that of course he knew that. It was only meant as a hypothetical ideal scenario. What he’d meant to say was ‘wouldn’t it be nice if’.

His Chief of Staff accepted the change of conversation after that with his usual dumb ease and Oswald focused on getting through his day. Yet the idea didn’t wholly leave him, lingering as a wishful fantasy in the back of his mind whenever he was presented with another document to ‘look over’. Even back home later it didn’t disappear.

He went through his usual routine of dinner with Martín before they settled in to enjoy a little time together. Lately this had meant getting a board game out. Martín had discovered a cupboard of them in one of the old bedrooms upstairs and seemed keen to try them all. Oswald was eager enough if a little confused at times. He’d never really played these games as a child, partly because he had no friends to play with nor any siblings. There was no doubt his mother would have played with him but they didn’t exactly have the cash to spare on games they’d hardly use, not when one deck of cards offered so much more variety.

So it was natural enough to let Martín take charge of reading the rules and guiding their play. Oswald suspected he picked an interpretation to favour his own game at times but he would then maintain that decision subsequently so Oswald didn’t mind. He was however grateful for his own agile mind that allowed him to keep up.

They didn’t always finish their game before it was the boy’s bedtime but during the week Oswald was insistent about him getting enough sleep. Friday and Saturday however was an exception and Oswald was always disappointed when he had other engagements to take him away. Even if he knew Olga would keep Martín happy. He fretted again therefore about his decision to stake out the library this Friday evening and mentally ran through why what he was doing was the sensible thing.

The concept of having documents read to him had not disappeared but he had awoken with a new target in mind. Ed had said he recorded himself sometimes to aid his learning. He obviously therefore had the equipment and practice necessary for such a task. As a city official, the Mayor was empowered to employ citizens for special tasks as required. While Oswald had no intention of getting Ed recording all the things that passed across his desk, he did suspect the man would do a better job than Tarquin of abridging the more lengthy ones. Plus, Oswald was relatively sure the sound of his voice would help him focus despite the undoubtedly dull material.

Although Oswald was trying not to acknowledge it, he found the temptation of working more closely with Ed was unreasonably alluring.

Shaking that intrusive thought away he refocused his attention on the door. Ideally, he’d have gone out to wait beside it but the weather had turned against him. Briefly he entertained the idea that it was a sign before dismissing that as foolishness. The weather in Gotham was notoriously unpredictable. It didn’t mean anything. And it was perfectly reasonable to wait until Ed was off duty before approaching him about employment outside his normal work rota.

The fact it might also indicate whether the man had plans for a typical date night was neither here nor there.

Finally the side door opened and several staff tumbled out together, umbrellas bumping as they all tried to raise them. Oswald quickly ran down his window and leaned his head out, immediately feeling his hair flatten in the downpour.

“Edward!”

The tall figure in question turned at his call and stared. He seemingly had no umbrella and had merely turned his collar up in a meagre protection from the elements. Oswald gestured him impatiently over, unlatching the door and shifting back across the seat as he saw him move his way. When Ed leant down to look in at him he gestured again.

“Get in. I need to speak to you and there’s no sense in you getting drenched while I do.”

There was a brief hesitation, and in all likelihood if it weren’t for the downpour he might have prevaricated over it longer, but then he scrambled inside. It was impossible not to notice his long limbs as he folded himself into the car and Oswald couldn’t help but eye the ill fit of his pants and sleeves where they rode too high.

“If this is a library related query, it’s outside work hours and I really can’t-”

Oswald found himself waving impatiently again.

“No, no, nothing like that. That’s precisely why I’m here _after_ work. Because I come with a personal request.”

“Oh?”

Edward’s fingers had started tapping a pattern against his knees and Oswald couldn’t help but be slightly distracted. He wondered if the man felt happier with his hands busy and whether he played an instrument. He certainly had the slender hands of a pianist. Forcing his gaze back up he smiled in what he hoped looked like a relaxed manner.

“You mentioned learning by listening to recordings of yourself,” he prompted, waiting for a confirmation nod before continuing. Ed seemed a bit confused at the topic but not ignorant. “I was hoping to employ you, in your spare time, recording summaries of a few documents for me.”

“You want me to make readings for you? Of official documents?”

“Nothing confidential,” Oswald clarified at once. “But I get so many proposals and petitions and plans that I’m truly struggling to keep up with. My Chief of Staff does his best,” his lips grimaced slightly, “prefacing documents with a summary, but he often misses vital information. I need someone who can pick out the key information and condense it for me.”

“That sounds like a lot of work. I only have two free days a week.”

“Of course, I understand,” Oswald hastened to backtrack. “And of course you may say no. Though naturally I’m offering to pay you handsomely. And in point of fact there’s a very particular trend I’m interested in. Really I want someone who can scan several documents very quickly and spot links. There’s a game at play for control of the city and I intend to win it.”

“A game?” Seemingly that was the key word for Edward and he perked up. “You think there are clues hidden in various paper trails?”

“Yes. I just know she’s spreading her claws into my city but its just buried beneath so much legal jargon and I can barely get through the summaries.” He huffed in frustration.

“She?” Edward tilted his head inquisitively and a droplet of water rolled its way down his neck.

Oswald licked his lips and glanced away before returning his eyes to his companion.

“I’d rather not say unless you’re actually agreeing to help.”

This time Ed’s gaze dropped away as he clearly considered the offer. Then he nodded decisively.

“Yes. It sounds fascinating. And it will be a privilege to help the Mayor.”

He smiled over and Oswald smiled back with utter relief.

“Have you heard the name Falcone?”

“Of course. Who hasn’t?”

“My Chief of Staff apparently,” Oswald grumbled before continuing. “Sofia Falcone is the daughter of Carmine and she’s been behind a couple of proposals recently to redevelop areas of the city. It may be harmless but I really need to keep an eye on it to see if a pattern emerges.”

“Pattern recognition is my specialty! Send me what papers you need evaluating and I’ll keep tabs on it for you.”

“That is a great weight off my mind.” As he exhaled his shoulders visibly relaxed. “I’ll get Tarquin to set you up on the payroll and organise a collaboration on any possibly relevant documents.”

“I’ll look forward to working for you.”

Ed grinned and reached for the door handle but Oswald quickly reached out and grabbed his wrist.

“It’s bucketing down out there. The least I can do is have my driver drop you at your car. Where are you parked?”

“Oh I don’t bother driving to work. It’s really not that far.”

“Then you must allow me to drive you home.”

“It’s really no trouble. It’s only a couple of blocks.”

“Edward, you’ll be drenched before you reach the end of the street. I cannot have my newest employee getting ill. Now please, let me drop you home.”

For a moment it seemed he might still refuse but then he acquiesced.

“OK. Thank you. If we just turn right at the corner, drive two blocks and then my apartment is on the far left corner.”

With the message conveyed to the chauffeur, both men settled back for the short journey.

“Why on earth didn’t you bring an umbrella?” Oswald clucked with admonishment. “You never know when you might get caught out by a sudden shower and it would be unpardonable to die through something so preventable.”

“People don’t die through being out in the rain.”

“My father did.”

Oswald hadn’t actually meant to say that but it was an old lie of his mother's that had gotten deeply ingrained. He focused his attention forward and tried to appear impassive.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Next to him Edward fidgeted and Oswald could almost sense the oncoming question.

“Did he have an underlying health condition? Because really, a shower shouldn’t be enough on its own to do any harm.”

Although he didn’t want to explain the whole truth of his father's death, he was still adept at maintaining a lie with a heart of truth. It was certainly a safer avenue of discussion than his father's murder and his own retaliation.

“He had a heart condition. It’s entirely possible I’ll have inherited it which is why I never go anywhere without an umbrella.”

He shot a taut smile across which didn’t have the desired effect since Ed shrank in on himself. There wasn’t time for Oswald to attempt any damage control as their car then pulled to a stop outside Ed’s apartment block and he silently cursed himself for his snappy nature. The sound of the door unlocking preluded the introduction of noise of rain gurgling down a nearby drain and Oswald waited with shut eyes for it to be cut off again by a slamming door. But it continued on.

“I’m sorry,” Ed spoke quietly enough to be almost drowned out and subsequently raised his voice. “It was tactless of me to probe about your father’s death and clearly I upset you. Would you like to come in for a coffee? I’d been meaning to lend you one of my books anyway so we could kill two birds with one stone.”

The offer was so unexpected that for a moment all Oswald could do was gape. Then, without really thinking about it, he found himself nodding. His reward was a wide smile.

“Okie dokie. Right.”

Ed grabbed up the umbrella resting beside Oswald and fumbled to raise it so that he could get out the car without being soaked. The door slammed behind him and it briefly occurred to Oswald that perhaps that was the last he’d see of either Ed or his umbrella but then his own door swung open and Ed leaned close enough to share the shelter.

It was slightly awkward manoeuvring them both so they stayed dry but thankfully it wasn’t far to the door and the protection of the building. Ed then led him into an elevator, fiddling about with the folds on the umbrella while he selected their floor with the other hand. It was only at this point that the thought struck Oswald that typically an ‘invite for coffee’ didn’t just mean a cup of coffee and he sincerely hoped he hadn’t given Ed the wrong impression.

He was surprised again when they came to a stop and the doors opened straight into a loft conversion of the building. Perhaps it was unreasonable stereotyping but he’d expected Ed to live somewhere smaller than this. While Ed moved immediately to set the umbrella where it could dry, Oswald looked about trying to take everything in. The place was full of things to catch his eye and he felt like he would always see something new each time he looked. Then his gaze fell on the bed on the opposite side of the room and he diverted his eyes with a blush.

His eye then fell on where Edward was dutifully making coffee and his heartrate eased. The invite for coffee was just that. It gave him confidence to approach the little kitchen counter and take a seat.

“It’ll just be a minute,” Ed explained. “Wait there though and I’ll get you that book.”

As he hurried off to another corner, Oswald hummed happily and smiled at the obviously used kitchen appliances. It reminded him of his mother’s little kitchen back where he grew up. Always something out, regular implements ever on hand.

“Here.”

Ed’s voice distracted him and he turned to find a book being proffered. He took it on autopilot and Ed immediately went to complete pouring the coffee, letting Oswald decipher the title.

“A single man,” he read.

“It’s my favourite book,” Ed spoke mostly to the coffee pot. “Probably the only one I regularly re-read. I’d be curious to know what you think of it.”

It occurred to Oswald to ask why he wanted to lend him his own copy in that case but he kept quiet, sensing something deeper at play and happy to go along. As Edward held out his cup for him he gratefully wrapped his chilled fingers round it and smiled in gratitude.

“I promise I’ll read it,” he confirmed before smirking slightly, “If you play a song for me. Don’t think I didn’t notice the piano by the door there.”

A faint blush tinged his companion’s cheeks and he hid them behind his mug.

“I’m not very good.”

“Neither am I.” Oswald smiled self-effacingly. “But isn’t that why we practice?”

“Touché. Very well. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

As he obligingly went and settled in to playing a beautiful melody, Oswald relaxed and let his mind drift. His first thought was that Ed was undeniably a far better player than he’d indicated. The next was wondering whether Martín might like to learn an instrument. Which led seamlessly into imaginings of both Ed and Martín bonding over such an activity. He couldn’t help his smile and fervently hoped he’d find a way to enjoy such times with Ed again in the near future.


	6. Chapter 6

Their new routine came together seamlessly. At the end of office hours on Saturday a courier would take various copies of papers round to the library where Ed would be finishing up. He’d spend time his two free days going through them and stop by the Mayor’s office last thing Monday with a synopsis of what he’d collated. Without any prompting he took to giving Oswald a rundown of what he thought were the main points and they’d wind up discussing the running of Gotham.

“It’s no surprise that the GCPD are corrupt but even I didn’t realise how ingrained that dirty culture was. Falcone was no more criminal than them and at least he kept some order in his affairs. We’re very lucky now to have you exerting some proper authority over both spheres.”

Ed had gone on a bit of a tangent following uncovering yet another deal between the precinct and one of the multitude of lowlife city gangs. Although Oswald already knew most of what Ed was expounding, he nevertheless found himself enjoying listening to him. It was refreshing to hear someone else echo his sentiments for once.

“Did you know they collected coins?”

The non-sequitur threw Oswald and he wondered if he’d zoned out.

“Coins?” he repeated.

“Supposedly to boost morale but really it’s just another celebration of cop violence.”

“Now that’s not something you learned in these documents.”

Oswald gestured to the pile of returned papers sat on his desk with a cassette tape on top and Ed flushed slightly. He was getting to recognise Ed’s other tells as well, such as the way he’d habitually adjust his glasses when feeling caught out.

“I think I told you I had wanted to be a forensic scientist?” He looked over to check Oswald was following before continuing. “Well, at that time I did a little digging into prospective employers, such as the GCPD. It was realising just what a toxic masculine culture they exhibited that put me off. I… wouldn’t have been a good fit.”

“No.”

He hadn’t intended to answer but couldn’t help himself. The idea of Ed working in such an environment upset him in some guttural way. There was no way the police force would have appreciated his skill set, nor taken the time to draw out his intuitive creativity that was proving so invigorating to Oswald. Having been on the receiving end of bullying most of his life as well, Oswald was sure Ed would have experienced much the same from the supposed upholders of justice.

An awkward silence fell between them and Ed fidgeted.

“I think that’s everything. Will you and Martín be by the library tomorrow?”

“Of course.” Oswald pushed himself from his chair, suddenly feeling the jarring pain from having ignored his injured ligament too long but still forcing a smile. “Martín would be devastated to miss a visit. And I’m curious what book you’ll have to recommend this time.”

“You finished the last one?”

His delighted smile never failed to lift Oswald’s spirits. Ed was always so pleased whenever Oswald got through one of his books, be it the audio version or printed paper. Whether he liked it or not never phased the man and he seemed simply happy to be able to talk about it with him. Oswald sometimes wondered if any of the other library workers ever talked to him about reading at all.

“Yes, I did my friend. I’m not sure I fully understood it though.”

“It’s supposed to be vague and open to interpretation,” Ed immediately explained. “When it was published homosexual relations were illegal so even writing about them could get you in trouble.”

That gave Oswald pause as the other constant about Ed’s recommendations was driven home once again. None of them ever featured heterosexual romances – not primarily anyway – and he had to wonder if Ed was merely trying to cater to his preferences or imply his own. He decided to see if he couldn’t get two answers for the price of one.

“Do you ever discuss this type of literature with your colleagues? I mean, would they be accepting of love in different forms?”

Ed shifted awkwardly again before answering and cast his gaze away.

“I don’t really know to be honest. We don’t talk reading much. And, I’ve only ever mentioned past girlfriends so I don’t know how they’d react if I suggested a same sex attraction.”

“Oh.”

Oswald turned the answer over and couldn’t decide if Ed meant he had past boyfriends he didn’t mention or simply only ever dated girls so it wasn’t an issue. Edward obviously interpreted his pause as indicative that he needed further reassurance however.

“I have no real basis to assume they’re anti. I mean, it’s just ingrained cautiousness really. I’m sure they’d all act professionally about it. If you wanted to get more recommendations from them that is.”

“What? No,” Oswald exclaimed at once. “I assure you I’m more than happy having personal recommendations from you. I just… wondered how you were so knowledgeable on the topic.”

“Oh, well, you know I tend to over research things I’m interested in.”

He grinned again. Then his glance dropped down to where Oswald had unconsciously started rubbing his knee. “Let me walk you down to your car. I’ll be able to get the doors for you.”

Without awaiting an answer he stepped forward and gathered up Oswald’s work under one arm before turning about and moving to open the door. After only a brief internal debate, Oswald caved in to the help.

“What a gentleman,” he teased lightly as he passed.

It was both awkward and delightful to be thus escorted down through the building and outside and Oswald felt a sense of anticipation about what might happen when they reached his car. However all Ed did was once again open the door and gesture him inside before passing him his burden with a little wave of his free hand. Oswald vacillated between disappointment of nothing further being offered and happiness at the sheer friendliness on offer. He spent the rest of the evening in an unusually good humour especially since Ed’s report indicated Sophia Falcone wasn’t making much progress in regaining a foot hold in Gotham.

Whether Martín picked up on his mood or was simply feeling cheerful himself he too shared in the buoyant atmosphere. After a nice dinner where Martín showed off some of the new signs he’d learnt, Oswald decided to bend the rules and declared a film evening. They didn’t have many videos in the mansion but Oswald had made sure to buy Martín a selection that had taken his fancy. As the boy made his choice, Oswald fetched them both tubs of ice cream and they settled in to an indulgent evening watching a cartoon mouse seek his family.

It crossed his mind that perhaps they should make this a regular weekly event, given how his decision to work late Mondays meant he and Martín otherwise had less time together in the evening. And they both had an easier start to their day with their regular library visit in the morning. But Oswald held off suggesting it immediately in case events transpired against such a plan. He’d just try to incorporate it enough times so that it became a fixture.

The relaxed atmosphere carried over to the morning and it was surprisingly less hectic as Oswald tried to chivvy Martín into gathering his books for their trip out. All in all they reached the library bright and early and managed to seemingly catch Edward off guard.

“Mister Mayor.”

His surprised glance switched from the duo in front of him across to the large wall clock. Oswald ignored the implication of their usual tardiness to instead highlight a foible of Ed’s.

“I’ve told you Edward. You can call me Oswald.”

“Not as fun to say though.”

The grin spoke of teasing humour but Oswald noticed a very slight flicker of Ed’s eyes to where one of his colleagues was stacking the shelves nearby and he drew the obvious conclusion. Ed meanwhile had focused on talking to Martín and Oswald waited patiently as they conversed. Although Martín had managed to teach him a few basic gestures, enough to help in their day to day interactions, he stood no chance of keeping up with a fluent conversation. It didn’t diminish his feeling of pride in how fast his boy was learning however and he smiled as he watched them.

Soon though Martín switched to his pad as he obviously didn’t know how to convey his request.

“You want a new series?” Ed confirmed with an impressed lilt to his voice.

“He’s read all the Famous Five and Secret Seven,” Oswald intervened. “We hoped you might direct us to another series?”

“Well, there was one series that I was reshelving the other day which made me think of you.” He stood and gestured for them to accompany him. “It’s a bit more daunting than the Enid Blyton books but I think you’re ready for it.”

Reaching the right shelf he ran his finger along until he found what he wanted.

“Here we are. The first book in the series. Swallow and Amazons.”

Martín took it gratefully and quickly signed his thanks before moving to sit and start reading.

“Uh-uh,” Oswald admonished. “Choose some geography books first. Go on.”

The boy pouted slightly but diligently moved to go seek out some study books.

“Will he need help finding them?” Ed asked.

“I shouldn’t think so. He got the hang of your search computer straight away. He really is very bright.”

“I think it helps that you encourage him. So many kids show an aptitude for something only to get shut down by the adults in their lives and simply stop trying after that.”

Oswald huffed in reply before he felt a hand briefly land on his sleeve.

“Wait here a minute. I’ll fetch you your next book suggestion.”

Left alone momentarily Oswald felt strangely calm. He’d gotten so used to being the Mayor or the Penguin that he’d almost forgotten what it was like to just be Oswald. Yet here he was, a parent like any other, watching his child explore and learn about the world around him. No expectations on him to be anything other than caring and watchful. He hoped the library never developed any connotations beyond that for him. It was too nice to have a safe space like this.

Moments later and Ed was back though, easily displacing Oswald’s meandering thoughts.

“Here. It’s a bit shorter than your last few books but it really is an influential book for all that.”

He accepted it unthinkingly and focused on the title, unhappy to see the first word was a long one that swam unpleasantly as he tried to take it in. The cover picture almost certainly wasn’t helping matters being as the letters blended in places. Almost immediately Ed’s fingers laid themselves over part of it.

“Take it in two parts,” he suggested.

Unconsciously Oswald nodded and looked again at the first part to the left of Ed’s long fingers.

“Broke,” he read.

“Perfect.” Ed’s fingers shifted to reveal the next part. “And?”

“Pack.”

“Not a ‘p’,” Ed corrected softly. “Back.”

“Brokeback?” Oswald frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It’s a name. Brokeback Mountain. Oh woops. Gave the rest away.”

“Wait a minute. Wasn’t that a film?”

“Yes. It was pretty good too. But the book is always better.”

“Sooo… hypothetically speaking I could just watch the movie and pretend to have read the book?”

As expected the remark made Ed frown.

“You could but could you be sure you weren’t missing something? Films by their very nature have to edit the source material when translating it for screen. You’ll always lose some of the nuance.”

“Ed, I don’t get half the nuance anyway.”

“But the point was to practice reading. And you’re getting so much better.”

Oswald couldn’t help but huff self-depreciatingly at that.

“How can you possibly know that?”

“Because when you first came in you were daunted by the membership forms. Now you’re tackling novels.”

Really, Oswald couldn’t argue with that, even though he found he wanted to for some reason. Instead he diverted his gaze to check on Martín again. He seemed to have moved from the non-fiction back to the fiction but that was alright. Oswald could see the usual pile of books heaped next to him.

“I had another suggestion actually,” Ed broke into his thoughts and Oswald obligingly looked back to him. “Coloured lenses might help you focus better. It’s a similar theory to the tinted pages they print some books on. I happen to have a spare pair of red lens glasses if you’d like to try them and see?”

He pulled them out of his pocket like a magician drawing flowers out of a wand and Oswald found himself feeling similarly mystified to how he always had been by the trick as a child.

“Why do you happen to have a spare pair of coloured lens?”

Ed looked at them as if the answer should have been obvious from the sight of them.

“I was experimenting with making 3D images,” he explained. “Which needs a red lens and a green one to work properly. And I got several pairs of each in case there were mishaps transferring the lenses over. Although as it happens it worked very well so I have a couple of pairs of glasses spare. I didn’t think you’d mind which colour you tried and I kind of like wearing the green occasionally. Just, you know, for fun.”

Oswald accepted the frames mechanically while his mind assimilated those new facts.

“You, Mister Nygma, are a man of amazingly varied talents.”

It was both sweet and saddening how much Ed perked up under such simple praise and Oswald tried to dissipate the acute feelings it provoked with levity.

“Although I do think you’re wrong over the book always being better.”

As hoped, the remark prompted a roll of the eyes and a relief from the man’s grateful attention.

“You’d be hard put to find any evidence whatsoever to back that up,” he pointed out. “And those post film novelisations clearly don’t count as they’re only half scribbled versions of the film to begin with.”

Oswald merely tilted his head in acknowledgement of that, curtailing the debate as Martín headed over with his books.

“Got everything you wanted?”

An enthusiastic nod met his question followed by an awkward juggling as Martín strived to show him something particular he’d found. The cover alarmed Oswald even before he’d seen the words emblazoned across the top.

“Point horror?” he asked warily. “Are you sure that won’t give you nightmares?”

Somewhat unthinkingly he glanced enquiringly to Ed and Martín followed his example. In return he held his hands palm upwards.

“We don’t censure kid’s reading choices. It’s a childrens’ series and totally up to the parents whether they’re happy for their children to read it.”

Oswald bit his lip indecisively. He didn’t know the series but could hazard a guess at the content from the blood strewn cover. Yet he didn’t want to be overly protective. Martín lived in Gotham after all and would need to develop a tolerance for reports of violence. In all likelihood he was probably already blasé about the topic. 

“Okay,” he conceded. “You can try it. But if you end up sleeping in my bed all week then you won’t borrow any more.”

Martín managed a fist pump without dropping anything and then set off happily for the desk, the two adults following behind.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Ed offered reassuringly.

There was a brief hesitation as Oswald considered his reply.

“Ordinarily I’d agree with you, but I still don’t know much about his earlier life. I just don’t want him to be traumatised by any reminders of his past.”

He stopped as he felt Ed catch his sleeve.

“As long as he has you in his life, he’ll be fine.”

With that confident endorsement Ed moved away leaving Oswald floating on a wave of positive reinforcement that lasted his entire day.


	7. Chapter 7

It was impossible to convince Martín that he wasn’t going on a date. Not that the boy was showing any sign of distress at the thought. In point of fact he seemed unnecessarily excited. Oswald had assumed from prior complaints over him going out of an evening that Martín would likewise be upset now. Yet he was eagerly burrowing through his drawer of cufflinks for what he considered the perfect pair.

He tried again to explain.

“It really is just a way to win an argument. He keeps insisting books are better.”

Martín wandered back over and deposited a truly lurid pair of bright green cufflinks in his palm. Oswald thought he might even have won them at some charity event. They certainly weren’t any he’d actually have chosen and they definitely didn’t go with anything else he was wearing.

Silently he put them on as Martín wrote something on his pad.

“But you’re not seeing a film.”

“No, well, Mayors don’t often get invites to cinema showings. I’m working with what I have.”

He was well aware he was stretching a point somewhat in using that argument for their not-date but he’d always been stubborn. It was a valid enough excuse so he was sticking to it. Edward had also pointed out the flaw in his argument – that plays were obviously an exception, being written scripts specifically to be performed – but he had also agreed to come anyway. Probably only because Oswald had insisted he should be repaid for his kindness in encouraging both himself to read and Martín to sign but he wasn’t dwelling on that either.

Martín was now gesturing emphatically at his hair and Oswald felt a blush rise unwanted to his cheeks.

“Its pure coincidence that I’m trying something new,” he protested before suddenly hesitating. “It does look alright doesn’t it? The streaks aren’t too garish?”

He received a determined shake of the head even as Martín held his hands up, thumbs and middle fingers together, in a gesture for ‘perfect’ that even Oswald recognised.

“Not that I’m worried because of Edward,” he hastily began explaining. “But as Mayor I need to maintain a certain image.”

He diligently ignored Martín rolling his eyes and instead reached for his jacket, turning as he put it on to look over himself in the full length mirror. Doing up the last button he considered the overall effect and concluded he cut quite the fine figure. He might dislike various features, his limp for one and his sharp nose for another, but they were subsumed in the aura of style he exuded. Wealth and power allowed people to overlook a multitude of sins in his opinion.

Turning back to Martín he found the boy looking quite bright eyed up at him.

“Are you sure you don’t mind me going out?” He ran a hand into the curly mess of hair. “Not that I’m not relieved you’re relaxed about it but usually you don’t like me going.”

He ducked his head away and grabbed his pad again.

“That’s different.”

“Why?” Oswald frowned, honestly confused. “Whatever I’m doing it still leaves you alone in the house with Olga.”

“But usually you’re miserable too.”

Oswald found himself momentarily struck dumb by that.

“I’m not usually _miserable_ ,” he protested weakly before caving utterly and dragging Martín into an embrace. “I love you so much. You know that right?”

He felt Martín nod against him and dropped a kiss down onto the crown of his head. Although he wouldn’t say it, he was swallowing down the memories from his own childhood when his mother would go out to work and return looking so worn and tired. He never wanted to let Martín go in that moment. Yet time waits for no man and he could hear the front door signalling his chauffeur was ready for him.

Reluctantly therefore he prised himself away, pausing only to straighten his suit again.

“Alright. Wish me luck. In winning the argument, I mean.”

He received a wide grin and a thumbs up before Martín reached for his pad again.

“I like Ed too.”

He really didn’t know what to say in response to that and ended up simply smiling at him.

Whether it was a response to Martín’s emphatic expectations of his evening, or if he’d have been equally anxious regardless, Oswald had to stop himself biting at his nails in the car. The last thing he needed was to ruin his polish, not least because he still had a full schedule tomorrow which he didn’t want to face with chipped nails. Yet he couldn’t help but worry over whether Ed too thought he was trying to trap him on a date.

He hadn’t wanted to make things awkward between them by inviting him out only to have Ed feel he had to accept through obligation. An invite to a new performance of A Midsummer’s Night’s Dream seemed a safe compromise. Friends went to plays together all the time didn’t they? And he knew Ed was interested in literature so it was a suitable thank you to extend him an invite. Especially as the invite would simply go to waste otherwise. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, that was all. Which didn’t negate the fact he had butterflies in his stomach.

The car journey was over too quickly for him to entirely settle himself even though they pulled up outside Ed’s apartment block a few minutes late. Oswald was somewhat surprised to see Ed waiting for them outside though and double checked his pocket watch to check they weren’t actually running much later. By the time he’d ascertained it wasn’t that late, Ed had slipped into the car beside him.

“Hello.” He smiled a bit nervously at Oswald, eyes clearly cataloguing his appearance and Oswald panicked that he really shouldn’t have dyed his hair. “You look very nice. I hope this suit’s okay. I… didn’t have a lot of choice.”

Oswald could have kicked himself for not accommodating their different budgets when dressing. The last thing he wanted was to make Ed feel uncomfortable this evening.

“It looks very becoming on you. The colour suits you.”

Which, now he was paying proper attention, he realised was true. Green was not a colour Oswald himself would have opted to wear but for Ed it worked very well. He was suddenly reminded of his cufflinks and whether they’d suit Ed better but decided that was certainly a little forward for a first date. Or not-date.

“Did you know that when Shakespeare was writing his plays it wasn’t actually for the upper classes at all? It was meant to be common entertainment, much like cinema today, which is why there’s often a lot of innuendos and farce. Its only because the language is considered difficult that people believe it’s a province of the well educated now.”

“I think people often confuse upper class with well educated,” Oswald offered. “Having a costly education doesn’t make one any more intelligent.”

“No. Exactly. Its aptitude that counts.”

Anxiety suddenly gripped Oswald as he wondered whether Ed viewed him as reliant on his family fortune rather than intellect. It was true that during his election campaign he had implied an upbringing that wasn’t wholly accurate. His father was a wealthy respectable citizen, no-one could deny that, but the fact was that Oswald hadn’t been raised by him. Not that he’d been ashamed of promoting his mother’s immigrant status either, or his own chequered history with the police, but he could understand Ed not picking up on that.

Before he could decide how to correct the presumed misassumption however Ed was carrying on.

“My own family couldn’t afford to support my education fully. Another reason I got a job at the library rather than carry on studying for forensics. But I still taught myself in my spare time.” He turned with a smile. “Like you with your reading. I wondered if your mother’s foreign roots played any part in your lack of reading at home?”

“I suppose so,” Oswald stuttered. “We didn’t have books at home. She never really took to reading English. Instead of reading me bedtime stories she’d sing to me.” He smiled at the memory. “In point of fact, her disinclination for learning English is the reason my name’s Cobblepot.”

He caught Ed’s puzzled look and laughed softly.

“Her family name is actually Kapelput, but I never saw it written down and when I first came to try and write it out-”

“You ended up with Cobblepot,” Ed concluded.

Oswald shrugged in disarming acknowledgement.

“I never liked to correct it later. I still remember teachers correcting my spelling of it afterwards though when I’d mix up b’s and p’s and sometimes write down Copplepot instead.”

“When really _both_ were wrong.”

“Not wrong,” Oswald suggested. “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet.”

His quotation won him a brief applause.

“A nice segue back to Shakespeare,” Ed congratulated him. “Plus, further proof that intellectual ability cannot be measured by childhood grades or whether your particular learning method is popular with educational facilities.”

The car was slowing as their driver queued them on an approach to the theatre and Ed turned to look at the bright lights and glittering assembly of people. Oswald allowed himself to inhale in the momentary solitude. Then Ed was turning back to him with another bright smile.

“Thank you again for inviting me this evening. I’m sure you had plenty of more renowned people you could have asked.”

“No.” Oswald blinked in surprise at the very assumption that he’d have a bevy of people jostling for his attention. “Truth to tell I really didn’t have anyone else to ask.”

“Oh.”

It was only as Ed’s face tilted down that Oswald realised how what he’d said would sound and he nearly kicked himself. Where was his fabled silver tongue when he needed it?

“But that’s beside the point,” he hastened to add. “I’ve gone to plenty such events on my own. Nobody should feel ashamed of being confident in their own company. But I _wanted_ your company tonight.”

“Really?”

Cautious brown eyes raised to his and Oswald suddenly realised what a warm colour they were.

“Really. I want someone I can talk to about the performance. Someone who’ll understand it on my level and will offer their own erudite opinion. And I’ve never met anyone else who shares my love of Shakespeare.”

“Actually, I was surprised you liked the bard. Given your frustration with other enforced school reading.”

“Ah, but as you so astutely pointed out, Shakespeare is designed to be _heard_. My mother would treat me to shows whenever she could. Always a different play.”

He might have said more on the topic but they’d finally stopped outside the doors and their chauffeur had moved round to open the door for them. He thought he saw a hint of nervousness on Edward’s face as he noticed the journalists mingling with the minor celebrities of Gotham but it was hard to tell from his angle. Either way, when the door swung open he didn’t hesitate to step out and turn to extend a hand for Oswald.

They remained unnoticed as Ed helped Oswald extricate himself and adjust his cane but once Ed shifted to his side, the sharks recognised him and began to move in. Oswald affixed a pleasant smile to his face and politely waited while they took a few photos. Then the journalists themselves moved in.

“Mayor Cobblepot. Is there any truth to the rumours that funding for the Arts is scheduled to be cut in the near future?”

“Budget considerations will always be made with the best interests of Gotham’s citizens at its heart. Personally I would like to see Gotham become a cultural centre with a renowned theatre culture.”

“Mister Cobblepot, do you have any comment on the criticisms this production has endured for their casting choices?”

“Shakespeare’s plays have always enjoyed diverse casting. I’m sure we all know that historically women were not allowed to act. I wonder if at the time of that barrier being removed some historical mayor was asked a similar question? I feel sure they’d have answered in the same vein as myself, that new interpretations can only enhance our understanding of these tales.”

“Mister Mayor. You’ve become noteworthy for eschewing company at formal events. Care to elaborate on your date for tonight?”

The accompanying smirk as much as the question cause him to stiffen defensively and he struggled to force a smile.

“A fellow theatre enthusiast,” he enunciated briskly. “Now, if you’ll excuse us. We wouldn’t want to miss the play.”

Without further pandering to their nosey interest he ploughed forward towards the wide doors, Ed matching his pace unhesitatingly. It was only once they were secure inside that he glanced up to him.

“I am _so_ sorry. I had no idea they’d be so rude as to imply…”

He blushed and broke off. Thankfully Ed seemed happy to dismiss the concern.

“It’s fine. I should have expected the interest really. The gossip columns are always speculating about your romantic life after all.”

“What?!”

“You didn’t know?” Ed blinked down at him. “It’s quite a regular subject of speculation.”

“No. I don’t tend to read the papers at all, let along the gossip pages.”

He practically spat the last part, suddenly wondering just what they speculated about specifically. And more particularly what Edward made of it all when he read it.

“Ah. I should have realised that,” Ed said faintly apologetically. “I could update you on it if you wanted to know what they say. But really its fairly predictable drivel. A trained monkey could churn out the same columns using cut and paste.”

Oswald’s stomach settled slightly and he reminded himself that only fools believed everything they read in the daily rags. Even he knew you had to read between the lines to get at the truth. Everyone had an agenda after all, perhaps especially the press who wanted to sell their daily sheets. His mood improved further as Ed extended a crooked elbow to him.

“Shall we?”

“With pleasure.”

They set off to their reserved box and the reporters outside slid from his mind.

“I never asked but I assume you’ve seen this play before?” he prompted their conversation back on track.

“I have,” Ed answered cautiously, his eyes slipping briefly to Oswald and away.

It was too intriguing a tell to ignore and Oswald tipped his head enquiringly. Ed relented almost at once to his silent question.

“If you want to know the truth, I used to skip classes and sneak into shows when I was younger.”

“Edward Nygma,” Oswald exclaimed with mock amazement. “I’m not sure what to be shocked by more. You missing classes or sneaking into theatres.”

“School was too easy.” Ed half shrugged, careful not to unbalance Oswald. “And honestly when I was a kid I could just pretend to have been separated from my parents. I guess no-one thought a scrawny teenager would be trying to sneak in to watch Shakespeare.”

“I used to skip classes too,” Oswald admitted. “Not for the same reason but…” he trailed off, unwilling to discuss his life on the streets during such a pleasant evening.

He was grateful that Ed didn’t feel the need to press him on it, instead returning to their earlier conversation point.

“Schools don’t suit a lot of people. Yet look at us now! The Mayor and his plus one enjoying a cultural evening.”

He finished with a flourish as they reached their assigned box and Oswald smiled at his theatricality.

“And there’s no-one I’d rather be sharing it with,” he declared.

For a brief moment he wondered if he’d been too open, or indeed whether Ed was about to reply in kind, but then the moment passed. Ed smiled at him and took his seat, opening out the programme and beginning to recite which understudies were performing. As Oswald took his place next to him he reflected it was as well not to get too caught up in fanciful notions and simply focus on enjoying Ed’s friendship.

It was something he was grateful to have and he didn’t want to risk it for anything.


	8. Chapter 8

In hindsight Oswald should have anticipated this although, to be fair, before his first outing with Edward he’d never considered that the press would be writing about his love life, especially considering his lack of one. Not that he even had one now he reminded himself. Yes, he and Edward frequently attended events together but that was as friends. A convenience for himself when company was preferable and a generosity to Edward.

Visits to museums were so much better when he had someone to talk to. And not just anyone but a person with an equally attentive eye for detail and a surprising knowledge of the pieces’ values. It wasn’t just for his benefit though. Martín needed the stimulation from excursions into the city and having someone on hand who could simultaneously encourage him with ASL was only to be desired. His heart melted just a little more as he recalled Ed mentioning that he brushed up on relative signs before their trips so he could teach Martín the proper related words.

At least Martín had stopped pestering him about dating Ed, he reflected. Oswald knew he wasn’t that good at hiding his emotions but he had thought he’d done sufficiently well to not show his son how disturbed he was by the new rumours. Really, he shouldn’t have even started looking at the gossip columns but it was a scab he couldn’t seem to help picking at. So more often than not, at the end of breakfast he’d find himself turning to the lurid double page spread and scanning for the latest picture of himself.

Today had felt worse than usual. Typically, the camera hounds managed shots of them just conversing, walking together like any two people would at a zoo or admiring the talented sculptures at the art college. Whoever had taken this shot however was obviously a master of subterfuge and, in Oswald’s opinion, a disgusting creeping peeping tom.

It was through a window, although the distortion was minimal, he’d give them that. Oswald was sitting beside Ed with Martín opposite, and _his_ inclusion was enough to make his stomach roil. There were half eaten ice cream sundaes in front of them and Ed and Martín were gesturing to each other, wearing almost identical wide smiles. And Oswald, while the others were thus occupied, had been caught staring adoringly up at his companion.

Even remembering the picture hours later in his office brought an embarrassed flush to his face. There was no way anyone could misinterpret his expression. Even his own self-deluded mind had given up trying to argue to himself he wasn’t in love with Edward in the face of that evidence. Now he was anxiously anticipating how everyone else was reacting to the image. Or actually, how Ed was reacting. He really didn’t give much of a damn what anyone else thought.

He was reassured slightly by the fact Ed had always been so dismissive of such speculation before and yet he also knew the other man read the reports each day by his ability to quote the latest hypothesis. Would this evidence be the tipping point in their relationship? Would Ed reconsider whether they ought to spend so much time together given the obvious impact he was having? While Oswald could appreciate the logic behind that rationale he really didn’t like the prospect.

But even more likely wasn’t it probable the whole thing would begin to make Ed feel self-conscious and awkward. They were friends but knowing someone has romantic feelings for you which you don’t return could only make things uncomfortable. Either he’d be asking Ed to ignore his pathetic pining or he would have to learn very quickly to suppress all such signs of wanting the other man. He wasn’t sure either was doable.

And then there was Martín. The boy liked Ed. He was the only person beside his tutor who he could really talk to. Oswald didn’t want to be the one who ruined that for him because of his stupidly softly sentimental heart. There were days when he wished he was as cold hearted as his mentor, Ms. Mooney, but that simply wasn’t who he was. It was his passion that had got him this far, channeled properly though, not this unmanageable mess of emotions he felt around Edward.

He was actually grateful to be interrupted in his nail biting by Tarquin entering the room with his round up of the day’s achievements, and reminders for tomorrow’s events, and Oswald eagerly put aside his personal problems to focus on his upcoming obligations.

“Also, Miss St Cloud is hosting a garden party at the weekend. Primarily it’s for the younger socialites like Master Bruce Wayne but she particularly extended an invite to your ward.”

“My son,” Oswald corrected immediately.

“Yes.”

Tarquin answered with his usual vagueness that Oswald was sure meant he wasn’t paying attention to a word he said. Regardless though he passed over the decorative invite for Oswald’s perusal. He ignored it in favor of quizzing Tarquin.

“I presume I can bring a guest with me?”

A garden party with a child host sounded just the sort of casual relaxed event it might be appropriate to invite a friend to. More particularly though, if Martín was going to be mingling with a crowd, Oswald wanted to ensure there was at least one adult capable of translating for him. The last thing he wanted was for him to feel totally isolated and he just knew Ed would promote surprise that others weren’t fluent in ASL.

He suddenly realized Tarquin had paused before offering an answer.

“You can,” he confirmed when Oswald glanced to him. “But it would be considered most inappropriate to invite your… male friend.”

The attempted subtle hint made Oswald’s cheek flame again and he stared fiercely at his Chief of Staff.

“Mister Nygma is my friend. I fail to see how inviting a friend to a garden party could be construed as inappropriate.”

“I understand,” Tarquin responded at once, indicating to Oswald he didn’t at all. “But a lot of people will draw the wrong impression and you don’t want people making the leap to thinking you’re…”

“Gay?” Oswald supplied into the silence. “I fail to see why that should be a problem for anyone else. And the fact of the matter is that I’m not intimate with Edward.”

“Which is very commendable. Truly. People should admire your struggle against your nature but unfortunately they do tend to assume the worst.”

The silence that fell between lay heavy and for a long few breaths Oswald found he could scarcely breathe.

“What?” he finally managed to ask.

Once again he found himself realizing Tarquin simply didn’t take notice of anyone else on any level that mattered and Oswald watched with a strange sense of detachment as he retrieved a leaflet from an inner pocket and continued.

“Recent events had me worried about how well you were coping given his persistent advances so I investigated specialists who might be able to help. The new doctor at Arkham Asylum offers alternative treatments for inherent problems. I thought you might want to arrange a visit.”

Oswald’s eyes stared at the paper being extended his way, a drawing of an architectural triumph on the cover which bore only a passing resemblance to the dilapidated insane asylum he knew. The combination of the reminder of that terrible place, along with the suggestion that being gay was some sort of malady, brought Oswald’s already unsteady emotions to a rolling boil. Snatching it briskly he promptly scrunched it in his fist and growled.

“You think I need to be cured?”

He wondered why Tarquin wasn’t answering him only to realise the man had become fixated suddenly by the knife in Oswald’s hand. He had no memory of pulling it out but grinned anyway.

“Oh, would you look at that! It seems I do still have some residual issues to be addressed. And Arkham gave me a clean bill of health too.”

It was almost funny to see the stupid fool hold his hands palm up as if that would help in any way.

“You’ve been under a lot of stress-”

“I have,” Oswald agreed, nodding seriously. “And I do think you can help me with that.”

“Absolutely. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

He lowered his hands and it occurred to Oswald that he really still thought he was going to walk out of here alive. The very ignorance of the man convinced him not to bother elaborating on the issue,

“Die,” he therefore answered simply before sweeping his blade up beneath the ribs to pierce the heart.

From the wheezing choked reaction he gathered he must have pierced a lung instead so he had another go. And another. And another, stabbing the knife over and over into his sagging flesh.

A wave of relaxation came over him as he finally let go of all his tension and stress, not having to think about anything, only act and react to the sensations up his arm. Inhaling deeply, he relished the quiet of it all. Tarquin had not managed to cry out even once and the only sounds were those wet and squishy ones that always amused him.

Which was about the point that the reality of his situation rushed over him and he gaped in horror at the body now bleeding out on his floor. At some point he’d also fallen to his knees, presumably to continue his assault on his former Chief of Staff, and now he could feel the wetness seeping through his pants. He had no doubt that he was also spattered in blood so that even a cursory glance at him would raise an alarm. His mind raced as he began categorizing his problems in order of their priority.

First, he had to hide the body. It was currently lying in the middle of the room in full view of the door and even if he only dragged it behind the desk, he needed to get it out of immediate sight. The highly polished floor helped with that, as did the slick of blood reducing the friction. Although that later point contributed to problem two, cleaning up the crime scene. That was entirely more problematic. He had very little to work with, not even running water in here, and really it would need bleach to do a proper job. It was a relief at least not to be dealing with a carpet.

As he began walking through the familiar list of problems he began to calm down again. It would be easy to ring his secretary and tell her he would be staying late. She would then go home and he’d have a relatively clear path down to the lobby. He could then summon some lackeys to help get rid of the body for a small fee. Also to clean his office for an extra cost. Although it might be a better option to accompany them to silence the witnesses afterwards rather than risk cash opening their mouths again. Easy enough since they likely wouldn’t expect him to keep those sorts of funds on him while in the office.

Which only really left him with the problem of dealing with his Chief of Staff’s disappearance. He’d learned over time that outright denial and bluff were usually the best methods in such cases. For tonight he would do nothing but when Tarquin didn’t appear tomorrow he would begin instigating investigations. Getting an assistant to check his house, reporting it to the GCPD and bothering them. Done right, he could wind up making them dig their heels in over responding at all giving the trail even more time to go cold. Then he could enjoy denigrating the police force as they failed to turn up his employee.

It suddenly occurred to him that he’d need to break in a new Chief of Staff and his stomach sank. Although Tarquin had been simple almost to the point of idiocy, and apparently unrepentantly homophobic, he had at least not questioned Oswald’s orders too much. If the Mayor requested a summary of a multipage document then he got it, albeit possibly inaccurate or incomplete. Who knew whether the replacement would be so accommodating or indeed if they’d require Oswald to explain exactly _why_ he wanted a simplified version of the texts he was supposed to read.

While he was beginning to feel more pride in what he’d accomplished despite this hurdle, and indeed pride in the improvements he was making within himself, he was not ready to announce that to the whole wide world. Politics was a tenuous balance of appearing strong and seeming relatable. At present Oswald felt his struggles with dyslexia still lent him too far towards being seen as weak.

Maybe by the time he came to run for office again though he would have surmounted his difficulties enough to feel confident in promoting the fact. With Edward’s help he believed he could accomplish almost anything.

The thought of Edward triggered a brainwave and he nearly stumbled over Tarquin as he sought his chair to contemplate it. What if he offered the position of his Chief of Staff to Ed? On the surface it was a sensible choice since the man undoubtedly had superior organizational skills and an exceptional memory to juggle his hectic schedule. He would also understand Oswald’s particular needs and would work around them for the best results.

From a personal perspective too it made sense. Firstly because it should help quash the rumours of romance if he could indicate they’d been working towards incorporating Ed into his retinue and secondly because it would give Oswald an impeccable excuse to invite him places. All in all he couldn’t see a single flaw in his plan and he grinned down at Tarquin.

“I wish I’d thought of killing you sooner. This is the most help you’ve ever been to me.”

His smile faded somewhat as he realized Ed might not want to give up his job at the library but then he shook the worry away. Fortune favored the brave and Oswald was determined to at the very least try. Once he’d finished dealing with disposing of the previous incumbent of the position of course. Thus decided he therefore reached out and began setting wheels in motion, dismissing his secretary for the day before picking up the phone to ring for his clean-up crew.

He stopped himself just in time however as he remembered the police might very well check the phone records when investigating the disappearance. Almost without thinking therefore he found himself ringing Ed’s number.

“ _Oswald?_ ”

“Ed. Hello. I need a brief favour. Can you call 2532687 and request a couple of workers stop by my office pronto. I have a bit of a DIY emergency.”

“ _Of course. Should I ask why you can’t call them yourself? Your phone is obviously working._ ”

He licked his lips as he considered his answer.

“It’s a bit complicated. I can explain later. There’s another matter I wanted to discuss anyway. If you’d like to join me at the weekend, Martín has been invited to a garden party.”

“ _Sounds fun. Alright. I’ll speak to you before then to confirm._ ”

He hung up and Oswald grinned dopily into the receiver. Everything was coming together beautifully. It was amazing how murder had a way of bringing people together.


	9. Chapter 9

They had agreed to meet at the Galavan’s family home, that being the residence of Silver St Cloud. Oswald had no love for the Galavans but he understood the necessity for patience in politics. Besides, having efficiently dealt with the brother, he was enjoying toying somewhat from his new position of power with the sister. And regardless of all that, he recognised the importance of possibly forming an alliance with the young heiress. Less on his own behalf and more for Martín.

He had every confidence in his boy’s ability to befriend his peers. What was letting him down right now was his own confidence. Their arranged meeting time was midday and it was already quarter past. Edward had never been late when Oswald had picked him up before and he was starting to wonder if, now he had autonomy to arrive himself, this delay indicated his unwillingness to spend time with him.

It was as he reached to adjust Martín’s bowtie for the fourth time that the boy actually caught his hands and stared emphatically up at him.

“I know, I know,” he apologised, extricating himself. “But what if Edward changed his mind and doesn’t want to see… come?” He didn’t mean to burden Martín with his anxiety but he was doing a poor job hiding it anyway. He might as well explain. “I had something important I wanted to ask him today and this is just-”

He broke off when he saw Martín’s huge smile and realised how he’d interpret that.

“I didn’t mean-” he began again only to be interrupted by Martín’s shifting gaze and sudden gesture.

Turning, he saw a car heading along the drive that really could only belong to Ed. If not because everyone else attending probably wouldn’t be seen dead in it but because no-one else would have such a cheesy license plate. He couldn’t help his smile though, especially when the vehicle pulled to a stop and Ed practically fell over his own long limbs in his hurry to get out.

“I am _so_ sorry I’m late. There was a diversion and I thought it would take me down along past the harbour but for some reason it took me the other way and right round the houses which added an unnecessary twenty minutes to the journey that I hadn’t factored in.” He blinked and glanced them over. “My, you both look dressed to the nines. I feel quite out of place.”

“Nonsense,” Oswald admonished at once. “You look charming.”

It was true too. While Oswald and Martín had dressed in matching suits with pinstripe pants and cream waistcoats, Edward was wearing smart slacks and a beautiful soft green sweater over his shirt.

“I thought a garden party meant it wouldn’t be a suit and tie affair,” Ed offered in explanation.

“I’m not sure I own anything other than suits,” Oswald countered. He glanced down to Martín who was smirking at him and coughed briskly. “Shall we go in?”

Edward promptly proffered an elbow in answer and Oswald just caught Martín’s amused look before he turned to lead them to the doors. By the time the butler had seen them through to the gardens Oswald had got his blush under control and was quite ready to face the afternoon. He took a backseat initially however as the pretty blonde hostess immediately materialised to welcome her new guests.

“Mister Mayor. Martín. So glad you could come.”

When it seemed Martín couldn’t quite gather himself to either sign or write a response, Oswald verbally stepped in.

“A pleasure to be invited Ms. St Cloud,” he said graciously. “Allow me to introduce Mister Nygma.”

“A pleasure, I’m sure.” Her smile didn’t falter, nor her tone, yet it still managed to convey her disinterest very well. “Come Martín. You must let me introduce you to Bruce.”

Oswald watched for a moment longer as his child was led away and he felt nervous on his behalf. He knew only too well how cruel children could be to those who were different. If anyone upset Martín in any way there would be hell to pay. Briskly he reminded himself that the society they were in at least had set rules and he returned his attention to Ed, who was looking equally nervous as Martín.

“Come on,” he suggested. “Let’s get the obligatory meet and greet over with.”

Although there were a fair number of people there, only three were of any interest to Oswald and he made a beeline to where they were watching his approach. He could see each of their gazes switch to Edward briefly with various levels of attention. Tabitha dismissed him almost instantly while Barbara lingered longer and incorporated Oswald in her sweeping gaze. The final member of their group seemed far more genuinely interested and Oswald found himself experiencing a touch of jealousy. He quickly swallowed it down though and forced a smile.

“Tabitha. How generous of you to open your home like this.”

She shrugged and took a sip of her drink, plainly uninterested in the social niceties of small talk. Which was fine as Barbara more than made up for it.

“Ozzie. So nice to see you. And its Edward Nygma isn’t it? I’ve seen your picture in the papers a lot lately.”

Again her eyes flickered to Oswald but he deliberately didn’t react. Ed meanwhile extended a hand.

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read but they did at least get my name right.” Switching focus he then extended his hand to the third member of the group. “And you are?”

“Alfred Pennyworth. Master Bruce’s butler. I admit I’ve seen you in the gossip columns as well. Very sudden, how they all started speculating on you. May I ask how you come to know our esteemed Mayor?”

“Of course. We met in the library.” Ed smiled disarmingly.

“The library?”

“Yes. We have a shared love of literature. Especially Shakespeare.”

“Shakespeare?” This time it was Barbara echoing in disbelief.

Oswald shot her a taut smile in return.

“I’m sure you’d recognise it if you heard it.”

There was a feeling of victory in her glare but it was interrupted by an exclamation from Edward.

“Alas, poor Yorrick.”

“I knew him, Horatio,” Alfred concluded.

Edward smiled brightly at him.

“Yes! So many people get that wrong.”

“Well,” Alfred bounced slightly with a pleased expression. “Benefits of a British education I suppose.”

Almost instinctively Oswald tightened the curl of his elbow round Edward’s.

“If you’ll excuse us. I believe I need to sit down.”

He didn’t wait for an acknowledgement before tugging Ed away with him, happy at least to get no resistance from him. As they moved they passed a server and Ed snagged two glasses from the tray, the prospect of which helped ease the tightness in Oswald’s chest, so by the time they sat down together he was feeling quite relaxed again. He took advantage of the pause while they sipped the champagne to scan the grounds for Martín and saw him stood with Silver and Bruce, seemingly demonstrating ASL to them. It was reassuring to see him with the Wayne boy as Oswald suspected his recent tragedy had made him more sympathetic to others.

“This is pleasant,” Ed commented next to him.

Oswald glanced sideways and enjoyed taking in the sight of him bathed in warm sunlight.

“I’m glad you could come,” he answered honestly. “There’s not many people I could stand a whole afternoon with.”

“Well, you did indicate there was something you wanted to discuss. And you promised to explain your DIY emergency.”

His look indicated he wasn’t about to let go of that particular mystery and Oswald could have cursed his tenacity. He’d really hoped to have more time to ease into that but perhaps it would be better to get it out of the way now. In his dithering, Edward obviously decided to take it upon himself to unravel it.

“Is it anything to do with your Chief of Staff going missing?”

He fairly leapt on the opportunity to divert the conversation, at least momentarily, and shook his head in faux disbelief.

“It’s incredible,” he said. “A prominent government official goes missing and the GCPD can find absolutely no leads. They didn’t even start investigating for two days.”

“Maybe something will turn up. Although, given how they’ve dealt with past cases, I wouldn’t rule out some corruption in the force disrupting things.”

“Exactly. How are the good citizens of Gotham supposed to sleep soundly in their beds when the cops are as bad as the crooks? I’ve a good mind to implement a whole new system.”

“An intriguing proposition. Is that what you wanted to discuss?”

“Would you have some ideas if I did?” Oswald challenged, suddenly seeing a way towards his goal.

“Maybe. I mean, I’ve studied police procedures a bit in my spare time and historically there isn’t much difference between how they and gangs operate. You’d just need to factor in additional teams for areas like forensics, which sufficiently organised gangs probably have already if they’re adept in covering their tracks.”

“That’s exactly the kind of logical thinking we need in this city.” He stopped suddenly to affix a surprised expression to his face before turning and gripping his arm. “Why don’t you take on the role of my Chief of Staff?”

“Isn’t it early days to be looking for a replacement? He may still turn up.”

“Of course, of course, but I still need help in the meantime and you already do some of his paraphrasing work anyway. Unless, you don’t want the position?”

“I’ll admit it sounds like a dream job but you must understand, I can’t simply resign from the library for what may be a temporary opportunity.”

“Then I’ll make sure its permanent. Tarquin was incompetent anyway.”

“Won’t you get in legal trouble for that? I’m not sure you’re allowed to fire someone who may be kidnapped.”

Oswald waved his hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry about that. I promise you it won’t be an issue.”

Edward laughed at his obvious enthusiasm.

“You didn’t kill him did you?”

The unexpected joke caught Oswald off guard and he froze momentarily. Unfortunately, Ed immediately picked up on the reaction. His laughter stopped and he surveyed him more intensely.

“Oh my. You _did_ didn’t you? Is that what the DIY team was for?”

“What? How could you… Why would you even ask something like that? Mayors don’t go around killing their staff,” he huffed, desperately trying to hide his flustered reaction.

“Maybe mayors don’t,” Ed agreed quietly. “But the Penguin does, doesn’t he?”

“You know about…”

He wasn’t sure how to finish that but it didn’t seem to matter as Edward rolled his eyes at him.

“I read the papers Oswald. You made quite a name for yourself before becoming Mayor. Truth to tell, I found that duality of your nature fascinating. The ruthless killer turning round and displaying a suave gift for political manoeuvring.”

“And… it doesn’t bother you?”

An offhand shrug answered him before Ed spoke again.

“This is Gotham. Very few people here have their hands clean. At least you have some desire to control the descent.”

“Yes, exactly. If crime is an unalterable fact then it should at least be governed properly. I want a city where Martín can walk without fear down its streets. The Wayne killings shook everyone. People of such repute shouldn’t have been killed by some lowlife mugger. This city needs reorganising so everyone knows their proper place.”

“And my proper place would be in City Hall with you?”

“I can think of no-one better to help me achieve my vision.”

“Then I’ll hand in my notice tomorrow.”

Oswald couldn’t help his giddy grin.

“I’ll have my lawyers arrange it. You’ll start your new position Monday.”

His hand was caught and his eyes met the practically glowing face staring at him.

“You are so kind to me Oswald. I’m lucky to-”

Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by Martín dashing up to Oswald and burying his face into his shoulder. Oswald immediately retracted his hand to embrace his son.

“Martín? What’s the matter?”

“Are you hurt?” Ed put in, reaching his own hand to rest on the boy’s shoulder.

He pulled back enough to look at them both, shaking his head but clearly still distressed by something.

“Did somebody say something to you?”

Oswald’s jaw set and he found his gaze flickering round for a target. Martín hesitated before pulling away fully to enable him to write something down.

“Am I a freak?”

“What?! Who said that to you?!”

Although he only shrank at the question, his eyes nevertheless gave their answer as they darted to Tabitha and Barbara.

“I’ll kill them,” Oswald growled.

A firm grip on his shoulder prevented him moving and he threw an irritated glare to Edward before seeing the direction of his look and returning his own attention to Martín. The boy’s head had dropped down and Oswald’s priorities reasserted themselves.

“You shouldn’t listen to them Martín. They’re only saying these things to you in order to get to me.”

His assurance didn’t have the effect he wanted and Martín still looked upset.

“Martín,” Ed caught his attention. “What Oswald means to say is, they used to call him a freak. They threw all kinds of nicknames and accusations at him in an attempt to stop him achieving his goals. And he realised they only did it because they knew his heart was his greatest weakness. He was too strong for them to tackle any other way which made words their only weapon. But look at him now. Mayor of Gotham. It’s just pettiness on their part now to try the same trick with you. And how weak is it really for adults to target a kid like you? Pretty weak.”

“But I can’t talk.”

“And I’m lame,” Oswald asserted at once. “It’s only a disability if you let it be. We both know better. People underestimate us both to their peril because we’re so much stronger than they realise.”

“Freak is only a name those who are afraid give to those who are different,” Ed proposed. “And evolution is driven by differences.”

Martín rolled his eyes at the reference to natural selection but nevertheless looked cheered. Oswald was then distracted by the approach of someone else he recognised.

“Bruce,” he greeted cautiously. “Can we help you?”

“No, thank you. I just wanted to check if Martín was okay?”

The boy in question turned and nodded, receiving a smile in response.

“Good. Do you want to come play croquet?” He lent in conspiratorially. “I’d rather not be left alone with Silver. She might get the wrong idea.”

Martín smiled and quickly signed his answer. Bruce watched intently and tilted his head quizzically.

“That was ‘yes’ wasn’t it?” At the affirmation he nodded. “This is fascinating. I’d love to learn.”

The boys walked off together and the men watched them fondly.

“It looks like Martín has made a friend,” Ed commented.

“Yes. I admit, if I had one wish for him it’s that he has at least one good friend.”

“Like you and I?”

Oswald hesitated briefly before reflecting that whatever else he might hope for he and Edward, friendship would always be an essential part of it.

“Exactly.”

A hum answered him and he wondered what Ed was thinking. Apparently it was nothing that he was contemplating though.

“Do you like riddles?”

His mouth had already opened to say ‘no’ when he caught sight of the hopeful look in his eyes and relented. There were undoubtedly worse ways to spend his afternoon after all.


	10. Chapter 10

It was simultaneously the best decision he’d ever made and the worst. If he’d hoped his fantasies of dating Ed would diminish after spending more time together he was to be disappointed. In fact, all spending time with Ed made him want to do was spend _more_ time with Ed. Although their days were spent mostly in each other’s company so really there was only the nights left apart.

Monday to Saturday, throughout the Mayor’s working week, his Chief of Staff was never far away. Whether in attendance at meetings or keeping civic visits to schedule, Ed was ever present. He also accompanied Martín and Oswald to the library Tuesday mornings when by rights he could have taken that time for his own activities. Oswald had not pressed that request upon him but was grateful nonetheless for his continuing aid in advancing his confidence with the written word. He knew he would never be fluent or fast in reading but at least Oswald was no longer stressed when presented with any documentation.

Ed also took it upon himself to spend Saturday afternoons with Martín practising their ASL. It became something of a routine for Oswald to settle in his father’s chair with his latest suggested reading material while the other two conversed in gestures of varying complexity or fluidity. At times he’d find his gaze resting with undeniable pride on his boy as he seemingly spoke so freely. Other times he’d look up from his page to find Ed smiling his own proud smile at him and he’d inevitably blush.

Despite his pining for the other man though, Oswald had pretty much resolved not to say anything. Things were so good between them, it didn’t seem worth the risk. And the very last thing he wanted was for Ed to feel in any sense obligated to agree because of their relationship as employer-employee. Yet Martín apparently had other plans and Oswald found himself regretting letting the boy watch so many romcoms.

It was a regular quiet Saturday afternoon, where Oswald was unwinding from his morning meetings and Ed was sat cross legged on the floor with Martín, when the silence was unexpectedly broken.

“Oh. That’s really something Oswald should decide.”

He froze in his chair as he wondered just what his son had been saying and cautiously lowered his book to pose an inquisitive expression at them, hoping his internal panic didn’t show. Ed’s nervous smile was not immediately reassuring.

“Martín said I should join you guys for movie night,” he explained.

A glance at Martín’s grinning face showed he was delighted with his plan and Oswald tried very hard not to scowl at being set up by a ten year old. With luck, Ed wouldn’t notice a thing. Casting his gaze back to Edward he smiled.

“You’d be very welcome, if you’d like to join us.”

“I would. Thank you.”

Oswald nodded agreement and promptly hid his face behind his book. Seconds later however he heard a low chuckle from Ed and peeked over the top. He was looking slightly flushed.

“I… uh… think you used the wrong sign there,” he offered. “That one’s typically only used for a romantic event. You need to spell D-A-T-E for a more generalised event.”

The conversation caused Oswald to hide again as he willed his embarrassment away. Needless to say he didn’t get any further with his book that afternoon. He fully intended to harangue Martín over his underhanded tactic later but truthfully couldn’t bring himself to. He learned from the best after all. It wasn’t his fault he was young and idealistic.

So Oswald spent Sunday in a state of low level panic about the following evening. On the one hand, he knew there was nothing to worry about since all it would entail was sitting with Ed over dinner and then watching a film together. Romance really wasn’t likely to occur. However rational thought did nothing to halt the curling tendrils in his stomach that just possibly, maybe, perhaps, something _could_ happen.

Unfortunately for him there really weren’t any preparations he could make. The house was in perfect condition, Olga would doubtless prepare a sumptuous meal as always, and it was Martín’s choice what they would watch.

Briefly, Oswald considered trying to influence his choice before abandoning the concept. For one thing, he had no idea what would be suitable anyway. And at least this way he could in all honesty blame his child for any dubious selection made.

The only thing he really had any control over was his own appearance and even here he knew it was limited. He still needed to dress for his role as Mayor primarily and it would only seem weird if Ed accompanied him home only for him to disappear in order to completely change. Still, fussing over his various suits and accoutrements gave him something productive to do which staved off the worst of his anxiety.

He actually felt strangely calm when the morning dawned. His daily routine and busy schedule helped keep his mind focused and he easily put the evening’s not-date from his mind. Ed looked smart as normal in one of the suits Oswald had funded for him when he joined his staff and in a funny way he was relieved the man wasn’t wearing anything more casual. Suits had always represented emotional armour to Oswald and right now he needed those barriers. He was actually able to forget their evening engagement until he was gathering his cane to leave and suddenly saw Ed standing waiting for him, a small smile on his lips.

Ed thankfully filled what might have been an awkward silence on their journey with a wealth of trivia about lesser known Hollywood facts. Oswald didn’t really interrupt, only adding in comments of surprise or recognition when appropriate. He found himself smiling unrestrainedly at Ed’s amazing breadth of knowledge, impressed as always with his impeccable ability of recall.

When they reached the mansion Martín was waiting excitedly for them in the lobby. With barely a wave to Ed he grabbed Oswald’s hand and practically dragged him up the stairs. Oswald called back to Ed to make himself at home even as he wondered what on Earth Martín had planned. He was pulled along to his bedroom before being released and watched in bemusement as the boy ran to grab something from his dresser. Hurrying back over he presented the lurid green cufflinks that he seemed to have taken a shine to.

“Martín, I don’t need to change cufflinks. The ones I have on are fine.”

It was as close as he would get to saying they were hideous and he really didn’t want to spoil his carefully chosen look with them. Unfortunately it wasn’t close enough to actually convey that meaning. Martín held his board up.

“For luck,” he insisted.

“What have I said Martín? We make our own luck.”

“Exactly.”

He held out the cufflinks again and Oswald took them with the full intent of putting them aside. As if anticipating that though Martín promptly signed one of the few words Oswald had learned to recognise.

“Please.”

Which was the final argument. Offering only a long suffering sigh therefore Oswald obligingly removed his tasteful purple gemstones to insert the requested abominations. Martín grinned triumphantly and ran off to rejoin Ed downstairs. By the time Oswald got back they were already sat at the table, with Olga huffing about his delay. He didn’t even attempt an apology, knowing she merely wanted compliance, and resolved to compliment her doubly when they were done.

If Martín thought he was going to escape being quizzed on his daily studies because Ed was with them then he had another thing coming. Oswald focused immediately on what he’d been doing during the day, patiently taking in Martín’s answers and trying his best to check the lesson had been understood. Not always easy when he himself either hadn’t been taught it or had never understood it. Thankfully Ed seemed equally interested in what Martín was being taught and managed far better than Oswald in suggesting avenues for further research, often with a more interesting angle than the dry curriculum allowed.

The conversation easily flowed from there with talk of things learnt over the years and a general agreement that too much focus was often put on academic achievement. Life skills were compared and the discovery that Ed was a competent baker drew obvious interest from his audience, both of whom had a sweet tooth but zero skill in a kitchen. Oswald defended his own lack of ability with the argument that neither Gertrud nor Olga would let him lift a finger in that regard.

Ed immediately invited them both round to his apartment for an afternoon baking and Oswald was glad Martín had the coherence to respond enthusiastically as his own brain seemed to shut down at the proposition. He swiftly took the opportunity to buy some space by suggesting they relocate and prepare for their movie night. He was very grateful Martín took Ed’s hand to lead him into their little theatre set-up giving him the chance to recover his poise as he went to fetch their bags of popcorn.

By the time he returned he felt more under control. That was until he noticed Ed had removed his jacket and stopped short. Ed glanced across to him.

“Martín won’t tell me what the film is,” he commented mildly.

After a brief swallow, Oswald nodded.

“No. He likes to keep it a surprise.”

He moved along to the couch and hesitated. Usually he and Martín sat together in the middle, popcorn on Oswald’s lap. Today however Martín had plopped himself on the floor in front and Ed was sat in his place. Oswald didn’t want to overstep but he didn’t want to seem repulsed either.

His delay was noticed and Ed again glanced to him.

“I hung my jacket on the chair in the dining room but I’m sure it will be fine over the back of the sofa.”

Oswald found himself caught out, unwilling to confess the real reason for his hesitance but still not wanting to give up even one layer of defence. Still, he complied as the lesser of two evils, handing the bowl to Ed before doing so. When he then sat he opted to regulate their distance by the width of Martín’s shoulders as a suitable compromise. It had the added benefit of allowing space for their popcorn between them all.

As Martín crawled forward to push the video in, Oswald inhaled carefully and reached for a handful of popcorn. He didn’t want to appear greedy or risk hands meeting in an empty bowl so resolved to get a large handful now to last him.

“Nice cufflinks. Green’s my favourite colour.”

His eyes darted sideways, suspecting a joke, only to see a soft smile. Flustered he turned his face away only to catch Martín grinning up at him.

“Thank you,” he muttered before adding somewhat accusingly, “Martín chose them.”

“Ah. I didn’t think they were the ones you were wearing earlier.”

The fact that Ed had apparently noticed his cufflinks earlier struck Oswald but he could not ask how or why he should have done so, both because those words wouldn’t come but also because their film was starting. He put the information aside and tried to lose himself in the moving pictures as he so often did. Bare seconds later though he recognised what Martín had chosen and nearly groaned.

It was a film he had sought out when he wanted to make sure Martín understood the diversity of sexualities and, in particular, Oswald’s own attraction to men. It had been a subject he’d been a bit uncomfortable broaching at first when he adopted the boy but he knew it would be important to ensure he understood why other children had a mom and dad and why that would not be happening with him. To his relief he’d accepted it unhesitatingly. However he’d never anticipated Big Eden being used against him in an attempt to set him up with someone.

Glancing sideways he saw that Edward at least didn’t recognise it and was plainly enraptured. It was a nice sight and he allowed himself a minute to take it in while he was distracted. Then he returned his own gaze to the screen and relaxed into the familiar tale. There were far worse things Martín might have chosen after all and Oswald doubted Ed would pick up on the message Martín was trying to send. Not everyone had this movie as their pre-talk preparation after all.

The two hours passed very pleasantly and it was with a sense of amusement about 100 minutes in that Oswald felt his son’s head drop to rest on his knee. When the credits finally rolled he tilted his head and could easily see he’d fallen asleep. He sighed fondly before remembering his other company. Looking sideways he saw Ed watching them both with an indescribable expression somewhere between wistful and amused.

“I need to put him to bed,” Oswald said quietly.

“Do you want a hand?”

The offer surprised Oswald and in an instant a vision of him and Ed tucking the boy in together flashed through his mind. He quickly dismissed it though.

“Thank you but I’ll manage. He’ll wake as soon as I move.”

“Ok. Well, I’ll tidy up while I wait for you.”

Again Oswald was surprised, having fully expected Ed to take the opportunity to leave. He wasn’t going to complain though and merely nodded his acceptance of the plan. Then he shifted very slightly. Martín immediately bolted upright, tense and ready to flee. It was a reaction that still made Oswald’s heart clench but he shushed him softly regardless.

“Bedtime Martín. Say goodnight to Edward.”

The boy stood sleepily and made what was clearly an imprecise gesture of goodnight. Ed chuckled and signed clearly back, albeit also verbalising his farewell.

“Goodnight. Sleep well.”

Oswald rested his hand upon his shoulder and began to guide him out of the room and upstairs. Once there they fell into their usual routine, Martín wandering into his bathroom to brush his teeth and change while Oswald turned down his bed and set up his nightlight. He also double checked Olga had refilled his water jug and made sure nothing was left littering the floor to be tripped on overnight.

As Martín came back and settled in bed, he reached for his pad.

“You enjoyed tonight?”

“Yes. I did. We’ll have to invite Ed again.”

He sensed Martín had more to say on that topic but he was interrupted by a yawn and Oswald promptly encouraged him to shift down, running his hand through his hair soothingly.

“Would you like me to sing to you?”

A nod answered him and he cleared his throat slightly.

“The fire has gone out, wet from snow above, but nothing will warm me more, than my, my papa's love. I light another candle, dry the tears from my face. Nothing can protect me more than my papa's warm embrace. The path ahead is dark, so dark I cannot see, but I will not fear 'cause my papa looks over me.”

He lent down and placed a loving kiss into the head of curls, lingering close as he whispered, "You're handsome and clever. And some day, you will be a great man."

Pulling back he met warm eyes blinking up at him and watched the lips move in a familiar pattern.

“I love you too.”


	11. Chapter 11

Heading back downstairs, Oswald hesitated on the lower steps and wondered if Ed would have reconsidered his wish to stay longer while he’d been gone. He wouldn’t blame him if he’d changed his mind. They’d be seeing each other again tomorrow morning after all and in all likelihood Ed had only agreed to this evening at all out of consideration for Martín. Probably he had only delayed leaving so Martín didn’t feel Ed’s presence had hinged solely on him.

It was with a steadying breath therefore that he stepped back into the living room only to be surprised upon finding Ed sipping on a glass of wine. His sudden relaxation was quite the opposite of Ed though. When he saw him, Ed froze like a deer in the headlights.

“I hope you don’t mind. The decanter was open on the side.”

“Did you pour me one?” Oswald moved back towards the sofa.

A gesture indicated a glass on the low table and Oswald smiled in response.

“Then you’re forgiven.”

He retook his seat and gratefully swept up the glass. Although they’d each had a couple of glasses with dinner, Oswald he had not imbibed enough to drown the butterflies he still felt. Especially when Ed came and sat next to him, definitely closer than before.

“I haven’t seen that movie before,” he commented with a casual tone.

Oswald tasted the wine before answering.

“It’s a special film for me,” he finally admitted. “My mother recorded it one day and insisted we watch it together in the evening. It was her way of broaching my sexuality. I admit I did much the same with Martín. He obviously enjoyed it anyway though.”

Truthfully Oswald had no idea if Martín had or not but he wasn’t about to explain why he really thought he’d chosen it tonight. It seemed safer to claim ignorance of that. Along from him though, Ed was smirking.

“I think you underestimate him.” He turned his head to look at Oswald. “I think he was trying to give us both a hint.”

Mortification hit Oswald hard. Of course Ed had noticed Martín’s obvious ploy, it had been foolish to imagine he wouldn’t. The man had the greatest intelligence of anyone Oswald had ever met. Would Ed now think him stupid for failing to see it? Or more likely, think he was playing dumb to hide his own complicity. Utter embarrassment rushed through him, flushing his cheeks bright red which only made his humiliation worse.

“I am so _so_ sorry. He’s got it into his head that we’re…” he gestured vaguely, unsure himself what he wanted to convey and hoping Ed would fill in a suitable blank. “I have no idea where he got the idea from,” he lied.

Ed was frowning in obvious confusion at him.

“You shouldn’t be so surprised. He’s a bright boy. It’s no wonder he picked up on the undercurrent of us dating even if he misinterpreted our reticence for pining. Nice to know he’s all for it though.”

“But we’re not dating!” Oswald objected, his voice taking on a shrill tone as he felt reality twisting under his feet.

“We’re… not?” Ed visibly pulled in upon himself. “But…” he stopped and bit his lip.

“Wait!” Oswald lent forward, making up for the lost distance. “You thought we were dating? But you corrected Martín when he called tonight a date!”

“That was because I thought you wanted to keep things low key. I assumed… but obviously I was wrong.” The final word caused Ed’s lips to twist in irritation even as he bodily turned away. “Perhaps, in that case, I should leave.”

As he made to get up Oswald followed, reaching as he did so to grab his arm. The turning motion however put unexpected pressure on his leg and he gasped out in pain. Immediately Ed turned back to him and steadied his shoulders to guide him back into his seat. Despite the throbbing pain, Oswald had enough presence of mind to seize hold of one arm and not let go, even when settled again, and Ed obligingly sat beside him while he regained his composure.

“Please, don’t go,” Oswald asked quietly. “I have been agonizing over whether to ask you out, or if you’d even consider me, and if you leave now-”

“How could you even be worried about that at this point?” Ed interrupted. “To my mind you have already invited me out numerous times.”

“I don’t know,” he huffed. “None of them felt like proper dates. No candle-lit dinners or moonlight walks.”

He chanced a glance sideways and was relieved to see a soft smile being cast his way.

“While that admittedly sounds nice, it’s also rather too fairytale for everyday don’t you think?”

“Perhaps, but I was raised to be a gentleman.”

“I know,” Ed concurred at once. “Which is why it never surprised me that we were taking things slow or keeping things quiet. A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell after all.”

The mention of ‘kiss’ registered strongly with Oswald and he couldn’t help but look to Ed’s lips. If they agreed they’d actually already been on several dates then it shouldn’t be too soon for a kiss should it? He was momentarily startled to feel a hand curling round the nape of his neck and raised his eyes to see Ed looking intently back at him.

“Is this alright?”

All Oswald could manage was a shaky nod in response, his eyes widening slightly as Ed’s face approached his and then falling shut at the first press of lips. He almost wanted to cry at finally having the sensation of intimacy and nearly forgot to respond. Thankfully his other instincts kicked in, bringing his hands up to hold the sides of Edward’s face even as his mouth began to feel out the shape of Edward’s against his own.

Too soon for his liking though the other pulled away.

“Hhhmm,” Ed licked his lips as he rested their foreheads together. “I think that was worth the wait.”

“Yes. Though perhaps, we should make up for some of that lost time.”

He didn’t wait for a reply and simply pressed his lips back against Edward’s, feeling them mold themselves under his with alacrity. If he’d been thinking coherently he might have worried about pushing too far but it seemed Ed was more than willing by his reaction. The hand that had been up at his hairline drifted down his spine to grip on his waist, being joining by the other one to increase the guiding pressure. Oswald barely noticed as Ed then parted his lips and traced his tongue out, teasing a groan out of his partner.

When they broke apart a second time Oswald found Ed had reclined himself along the sofa and pulled Oswald so he was splayed on top of him. He blushed profusely at their indecent positioning and quickly shifted himself back to his previous prim sitting position albeit with an uncomfortable tightness in his undergarments. A few moments later Ed followed suit to reclaim his seat beside him, clearing his throat deliberately.

“That was… good.”

“Yes. Yes it was.”

He hated how formal his voice had suddenly become but didn’t know how else to react without losing control completely. It apparently provoked a similar response in Edward as he straightened his glasses and flattened his hands before speaking.

“In the interest of clear communication, since I wouldn’t want any further hiccups whereby one or other of us is utilizing guesswork, I feel I should tell you I… er… came prepared tonight.”

“You came prepared,” Oswald repeated dumbly, watching the flush now on Edward’s cheeks.

“In my defense, I thought we were well past the third date and-”

Oswald heard nothing further over the rush of blood suddenly pounding in his ears as his sluggish brain finally put the implication together. Ed had thought they were dating. He’d happily come to spend the evening here and, if his words were to be believed, anticipated incorporating a new physical element to their relationship.

“Edward,” he had no idea if he was interrupting at this point but was reassured by the keen attention being focused upon him. “Would you care to stay the night?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Ed breathed before leaning in to capture Oswald’s mouth again.

This time it was Oswald who ended up laid out upon the cushions as Ed encouraged his lips open to deepen their kiss. It was tantalizing to feel the brush of tongues as they each focused on their explorations. Oswald’s hands traced their way up and down Ed’s form as he sketched out a tactile map of taut muscles and long limbs. It was the sensation of Ed’s hand finding its way onto the skin of his stomach that jerked him back to their surroundings however and he briskly angled his face away.

“Not here,” he insisted, lying tense with Ed equally frozen above him. Looking back he could see just how aroused Ed was getting from the evidence of his pupils alone and he steeled himself to be the sensible one. “Martín might come back down.”

Although the possibility wasn’t very high, there was no way Oswald would enjoy this knowing they’d be in full view if he did. Bare seconds later Ed blinked himself back to awareness and nodded his agreement, pulling back enough to let Oswald up. He smiled as he shifted upright and placed a teasing kiss to Ed’s lips.

“Martín knows to knock at my bedroom,” he promised. “And it has a very nice bed.”

The proposal was met with a devilish grin that sent a shiver down Oswald’s spine.

“Lead the way Mister Mayor.”

He grinned back and seized Ed’s hand to tug him along in his wake. Which worked for a couple of steps until his limp began to worsen at which point Ed took advantage of the situation to curl one long arm snugly about him. After that their progress was regularly hampered by one or other of them leaning in to seize another kiss and them inevitably stumbling into a wall. By the time they reached the landing Ed was giggling and Oswald kept shushing him through wide smiles as he reminded him not to disturb Martín.

“Honestly,” he whispered, “If you can’t be quiet I shall send you away.”

“You wouldn’t,” Ed asserted confidently, temporarily caging his little bird against the wall and leaning in close beside his ear. “Besides, I can think of better ways of keeping me quiet.”

Oswald’s pupils blew wide with the sensory overload of the insinuated scenario and he grabbed Ed firmly by handfuls of his shirt. With the taller man momentarily off guard he then swung them around to where he could shove him determinedly through his open doorway. Stalking after him, Oswald’s last cautious action of the night was shutting the door behind them.

It remained firmly closed until the next morning when two rather disheveled individuals finally ventured forth. In a compromise they had shared out the available nightwear for the best show of respectability. Ed therefore had a pair of boxers covered over with Oswald’s brocade robe while the shorter man had his pyjamas. They could do little to ease the suspicious nature of Ed’s being there to join them for breakfast but all it received was an obviously unsurprised look from Martín.

Since he already had a one hand occupied conveying toast to his mouth Martín simply used the other one to hold up his notepad, upon which was a pre-written sign saying “Good morning Ed.”

Ed stopped short beside the place setting clearly laid for him and stared.

“How did you know I’d still be here?” he demanded.

A gesture towards a distinctive jacket still draped over a nearby chair was his answer but that didn’t satisfy Ed. Gripping the back of the chair he met Martín’s gaze challengingly.

“Circumstantial evidence,” he suggested. “You need harder facts to base your conclusions on.”

Martín tilted his head speculatively and turned to a new sheet.

“I know you. I know papa.”

“Ed,” Oswald interrupted, part fond, part exasperated, as he inhaled his first cup of coffee. “Please sit down. You’ll find Martín is a very perceptive judge of people. Though he does still need to learn how to decipher his intuitions.”

He released a breath as Ed finally sat, throwing a conspiratorial grin across to Martín. Oswald meanwhile was less sanguine.

“Martín? I assume by your reaction you don’t mind Ed fulfilling a closer role in our lives?”

There was an emphatic shake of the head and a flurry of hands which so early in the morning Oswald couldn’t hope to process. He threw an appeal to Edward who was suddenly looking shy.

“Ed?” he prompted.

“He says… you love me.”

“Oh.” Oswald fought his own blush and diligently returned his gaze to his son. “Be that as it may,” he huffed, unwilling to actually contradict the statement and letting it pass so Ed could consider it if he wanted to, “My feelings aren’t in question right now. How would _you_ feel about Ed spending more time here?”

Perhaps recognizing Oswald’s hazy focus, Martín chose to answer with a drawing this time, depicting a typical child’s outline of a house with three very clear stick figures inside, one half the height of the others.

“I take you’re fine with it then,” Oswald smiled. “But you mustn’t expect Ed to spend all his time here. He still has his own life and home.”

“We can discuss it,” Ed suggested, reaching a hand tentatively towards Oswald. “When my tenancy agreement expires.”

“Of course.” Oswald seized his hand tightly. “If you think you can deal with us two on a regular basis.”

“I think I’d love to,” he answered softly.

The combination of doe eyes and hinted feelings was too much for Oswald to deal with immediately and he pulled himself back, noticing as he did Martín’s smirk and coughing pointedly. Ed obviously recognized now wasn’t the time and obligingly allowed Oswald to redirect their conversation.

“We should stop by your flat first thing,” he proposed. “It wouldn’t do for people to draw conclusions from seeing you in yesterday’s clothes.”

“Oh I don’t know. I’d quite like some of my ex-colleagues to conclude I slept with the Mayor.”

“Edward!” Oswald cast a scandalized look to his son who didn’t seem at all bothered.

“Martín already knows I spent the night here,” he pointed out reasonably. “He set us up if you’ll remember.”

Martín practically inflated at the acknowledgement of the hand he’d taken in getting them together. Which was only made worse by Ed flashing him a thumbs up across the table.

“Yes, thank you.” Oswald didn’t think his burning cheeks could possibly get any brighter. “It seems I’ll be the one having to deal with two handfuls.” He threw them each mock scowls.

“Ah but you love us, don’t you,” Ed teased.

Put on the spot Oswald suddenly didn’t know how to react and Martín tensed too. Thankfully Ed had an olive branch to offer.

“I love you too,” he said sincerely, glancing sideways to incorporate Martín. “Both of you.”

The sun seemed to shine a little brighter in that moment and Oswald felt his heart flood with light.

“If you really love me,” he suggested brightly, “Then you’ll dress appropriately for the day.”

Ed conceded with a bow of the head and Oswald returned his gaze to Martín with a blissful smile.

“In fact, why don’t we all go to Ed’s flat this morning? He has a piano and I’m sure if we ask nicely he’ll play for us.”

“Anything for you two,” Ed agreed, his own grin blindingly bright.

Martín abruptly got up to run and get himself ready, pausing on his way past to kiss Oswald’s cheek and only hesitating briefly before giving the same treatment to Ed. Oswald watched him go fondly until he felt Ed clasp his hand again. Looking over he was met with an undeniably tender look.

“I mean it. Anything for you,” he whispered, placing a chaste kiss to the back of his hand.

Oswald sighed and thanked his lucky stars for crossing his path with Ed’s.


End file.
